


Freely We Serve

by mille_libri



Series: Kylon [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-02
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-05-24 09:53:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 63
Words: 86,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6149752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mille_libri/pseuds/mille_libri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Falling in love with a woman you're supposed to arrest can be complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wanted

Outside, he could hear the sounds of Denerim waking. The merchants calling out their wares, the carts rolling through the streets as the farmers brought their produce in from the countryside. Inside the barracks was silence, broken only by the occasional groan as someone with a hangover buried his head under his pillow to drown out the sounds. Sergeant Kylon loved the morning noises, though. He firmly believed Denerim was the finest place in Thedas, and the familiar cacophony outside the window was a song to him.

He liked to get up earlier than everyone else—not that it was difficult. His men weren’t exactly doing calisthenics at 0600. Still, he treasured these quiet hours when they were all sacked out and snoring. And he could pretend that he had real guardsmen who knew what they were doing, that he had real power instead of the sham that was left to him now that Arl Howe had taken over Denerim.

Kylon did his usual set of pushups and situps. At least one man out of the Denerim Guards was going to be in shape when the city eventually deteriorated into some kind of mass riot. Then he went into his office, shifting through some papers, checking on the latest intelligence. If you could call it that.   
Near the bottom of the stack, a flyer caught his attention. For the moment, the words were a blur—all he could do was stare at the face. The wide eyes, the sculpted cheekbones, the wisps of hair. It was a good drawing, he thought. A pity such a beautiful woman appeared to be some kind of criminal. 

Drawing his attention with difficulty away from the lovely face before him, he read the flyer. This, this vision, was the Grey Warden? The one being hunted from one end of Ferelden to the other? The one Arl Howe and Teyrn Loghain were accusing of being a traitor to King and country? And a mage, to boot, he noticed. He wasn’t sure if he believed all the rumors about the battle of Ostagar, but some of it rang false. The Grey Wardens were supposed to be sworn to fight the darkspawn—he had a hard time believing they would have abandoned the King to be slaughtered by the tainted creatures.

Putting the flyer aside with some reluctance, Kylon continued through his papers, hoping to get through the stack before patrol. He hoped he could find a few competent men in the barracks who could actually stand up. 

After a while, he left his office, heading back to the barracks to get the men out of bed. But before he went, he took the flyer off his desk and nailed it on the wall, where he could see it easily.


	2. Meeting

Nearly a week later Kylon was standing at the edge of the Market District, keeping an eye on the bustling crowds, when he saw an unusual group of warriors enter the marketplace. It was the mabari that caught his eye first. Wardogs in the marketplace had been known to cause trouble, and this one was alert and on guard. The dog was sticking pretty close to the side of the lead warrior, though. Kylon’s eyes traveled from the mabari to the lead warrior’s long, trim legs, revealed by her green leather armor. As his gaze moved up from the back of her legs over the firmness of her rear, just tantalizingly hinted at under the armor’s little skirt, he thought the rest of the body seemed as lovely as the legs. The soft leather molded itself to her form. Kylon swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. What was the matter with him? He was thinking like one of the debauched nobles’ sons he had to deal with all day.

But he couldn’t take his eyes off the slender back of the woman warrior. Her weapon was odd-looking, though. It looked more like a staff than a sword. A staff? Suddenly he felt a surge of excitement. He began moving through the crowd until he could see her face. And there it was—the beautiful face that had haunted his dreams since he first saw it on that flyer. The long nose, the blond hair with the little wisps escaping to flutter around her face, the round blue eyes. 

Kylon’s heart pounded. He had to speak to her, to introduce himself. Had to. Moving closer, he studied the rest of her group. A tall blond man in red chainmail hovered behind her on one side and on the other was a red-headed woman in leather armor, both armed with swords. The Grey Warden was well-protected, that was for sure. As Kylon watched, the man leaned forward, saying something quietly in the Warden’s ear. Kylon bristled at the intimate-looking moment, feeling an absolutely ridiculous stab of jealousy. But the Warden smiled and shrugged, nodding, and the man and the red-head walked off together, his arm around her shoulders. Kylon was ashamed at his own sense of relief. But his pace didn’t slacken—he moved through the crowd closer and closer to the Grey Warden.

She was bending over a table, looking at an array of charms and amulets and jewelry, when he came up beside her. The mabari growled warningly, and she looked up. Kylon shivered when her blue eyes locked on his. Up close like this, she was far more beautiful than the flyer gave her credit for.

“Grey Warden,” he said. 

“How do you know who I am?” she asked. The voice was musical and soft, fully as lovely as the rest of her. 

“I’m Sergeant Kylon of the Denerim Guards,” he said. “A flyer was sent around with a picture of you. Not that it did you justice,” he added uncontrollably. “Not at all.”

Did he see a faint hint of a smile playing around her mouth? “You don’t seem like you’re about to arrest me,” she said.

“Not all of us believe everything we’re told. Besides, my guardsmen are mostly spoiled bastard brats of nobles. If I asked them to try and take you out, with your reputation, they’d run and hide their faces in their courtesans’ bosoms.”

“And that’s not your way, Sergeant?” There was definitely a twinkle in her eyes now.

“Daniel. And no, not my way.”

“Judith,” she said, holding out her hand. Her hand was slightly cool in his and made him feel as if he were burning with some kind of fever. “Which isn’t your way, Daniel?” she asked, her eyes twinkling. “The running, or the courtesans?”

He cleared his throat. “Neither.” 

She looked at their hands, still clasped together, removing hers with some difficulty, and her eyes had changed somehow, become less wary, when she looked back up at him. “Most men wouldn’t have dared to do that,” she said. “Touch a mage. Willingly. And you’ve been talking to me for more than a minute and haven’t mentioned toads a single time. That’s … unusual. Impressive.”

“My sister was a mage,” he said. They fell into step together, walking through the crowd. Kylon could feel the mabari’s eyes on him. The mage might have relaxed a bit, but the wardog had not. “She was taken from us when I was 5 and she was 12. I never heard from her again.”

“But you would have wanted to?” She was looking at him seriously now.

“Of course! She’s my sister.”

“We’re taught that our families are as frightened of us as anyone else. I suppose it’s one of the ways they keep us separated from the rest of the world,” she added, almost to herself.

“Maybe some are, I don’t know. But I wish I could see my sister again.” 

Judith stopped walking, looking at him. “So, Daniel, if you’re not going to arrest me, what are you going to do?”

“Nothing,” he said. “Except ask how long you intend to be in town.”

“Is there some kind of threat there? Be out of town by sundown, all that?”

He hastened to clarify, stumbling a bit over the words. “No, no, not at all! I just meant to see if you would be staying long enough that I could, um, ask you to dinner.”

Judith’s cheeks turned pink. “Are you asking me on a date?”

“I suppose I am.” Somehow he felt calmer now that it was out in the open. 

“Why exactly should I trust you? You could easily be trying to lull me into a false sense of security so you can take me to Loghain without a fight. I’m sure he would reward you well.” Her eyes challenged him, and he thought what a fool he was, to think she would trust him just on his say-so.

“Loghain and Rendon Howe—the new Arl of Denerim—are tearing this country apart,” he said quietly. Being able to admit that to someone was like a huge weight lifting off his chest. “Starting with Denerim. All I know about you is rumor, you understand, but you appear to be the only person in Ferelden who is trying to amass an army against the Blight. I would not get in the way of that.”

“That all sounds good,” she said, but clearly was still doubtful.

Kylon looked around at his beloved Market District. “Have you spent much time here?”

She laughed. “Hardly. I’ve been in the Tower since I was 8. I’d still be there if I hadn’t been conscripted into the Grey Wardens. It hasn’t left a lot of opportunity for sight-seeing.”

“I love this city. I’ve lived here all my life. All I ever wanted to do was be a member of the Denerim Guards,” Kylon said. He looked into her eyes. “Let me show you my city. You can bring your companions, if you want, or perform some kind of enchantment on me that will set me on fire or something if I try to do anything bad to you.”

Judith studied him closely. She looked down at the dog. “What do you think, Sam?” He growled softly, but made no move. “All right,” she said, turning back to Kylon. “Sam and I will meet you here at 7:00. And if you try anything …” 

“You’ll turn me into a toad?” They laughed together.


	3. Beginning

He was waiting in the marketplace at 6:45, fidgeting in the tunic and pants he was wearing. He felt a bit strange without his armor, but he was hardly going to go out with a beautiful woman wearing his regulation splintmail. 

As he stood there, he heard a group of people coming up behind him, and a man’s voice hotly saying, “But you don’t know anything about this fellow.”

“I know what I’m doing, Alistair.” It was her voice, cool and irritated.

“Do you? Do you really?” The man’s voice rose. Kylon stepped around the corner of the building, hoping they hadn’t seen him. “Have you considered that he might be trying to trick you, that you may end up in a dungeon by the end of the night?”

“No, it hadn’t occurred to me,” Judith snapped sarcastically. “Of course I’ve thought of it. But he could be useful to know, we can always use more supporters, and … he’s a nice person.” Was it Kylon’s imagination, or did her voice soften at the last part?

“What are you saying, that you like this guy?”

“Haven’t we been over this?” she sighed. “Mage and ex-Templar don’t work, remember? And you and Leliana seem happy. Why the jealousy, after all this time?”

There was silence for a moment. Then the male voice again, more calmly. “I just think you’re walking into trouble, and I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“That’s very touching.” Her voice was warmer now. “I’ll be fine. Sam’s going with me, and he’s a pretty good warning system.”

An accented female voice joined them now. “Are you ready for your date?” So the red-head was Orlesian, was she? Interesting, Kylon thought. 

“Yes, as soon as my bodyguards have found themselves something else to do,” he heard Judith say with a hint of laughter in her tone. Kylon heard the Orlesian lead the man away. A moment later, he felt Judith’s hand slide around his arm, and he jumped, his heart pounding. 

“You knew I was here all the time?”

“If I was thrown off by seeing someone in different clothing than I’m used to, I’d be dead by now,” she said. “You know, Daniel, eavesdropping is a bad habit.”

“In my line of work, a little eavesdropping can be a very valuable tool.”

“Fair enough. I’ll have to keep that in mind. Hear anything useful?”

“Not really. Enough to know you’re not involved with the big blond guy. Which is a relief.” He grinned down at her, and she smiled back.

“Interesting,” she said.

“What?”

“I actually find your jealousy kind of sweet.” She blushed, looking away. “So, where are we going?”

“Have you ever had Rivaini food?”

“From the Tower, remember? We didn’t get to sample exotic foods that often. Besides, right now I’d be happy with anything that’s not cooked over a campfire.”

With the mabari following close at their heels, he led her through the bustle of the Market District and down a series of alleyways to his favorite little restaurant. Judith managed, with some difficulty, to convince Sam to wait outside. 

As the proprietress bustled away from their table, Judith looked up at him quizzically. “Do you do this often?”

“What?” 

“Ask complete strangers out on dates.”

“Oh. Uh. No,” he said. “Do you?”

“In my current circumstances?” She laughed. “Alistair’s probably right, and I shouldn’t be doing this now.”

“Why are you?” Kylon looked up. Their eyes met and his breath caught in his chest. She was so lovely.

Judith looked away, blushing. “I don’t know. I … wanted to?”

“Sounds like a good reason to me.” 

“Won’t you get in trouble if someone finds out you’ve been out with me and didn’t, you know, arrest me?”

“I don’t know if anyone would recognize you,” he said. Her hair was down tonight, soft around her shoulders, and she wore a simple red dress. She looked very different than she had in the marketplace this afternoon.

They turned their attention to the menus. “I don’t know what any of this is,” she said.

“Maybe I could order for both of us. Do you trust me?” Their eyes caught and suddenly the question seemed to cover more than just menu items.

“I do,” she said. “I don’t know why.”

Kylon felt warmth spread through him, his heart pounding. No one had ever affected him this way before.

The proprietress returned, and he ordered his favorite meal—a curried lamb dish with rice.

When they were left alone at the table, Judith leaned forward. “Tell me about Denerim, Daniel,” she said. “What is it that you like so much about it? Please tell me it’s not the smell.”

“What smell?” he said, pretending to be offended. But he grinned. “Honestly, I don’t smell anything, but I hear the complaints. Wet dog, right?”

“Exactly. Of course, I travel with a mabari, so I’m used to that smell. Just … to have it all over the city is a bit overwhelming.”

“You get used to it. Besides, in the Market District it’s different.” He met her eyes across the table as the meal was set before them. He watched as she tasted the food, then dug in. “What was the food like in the Tower?”

“Boiled, generally. Mushy vegetables, grey meat. That kind of thing. Nothing like this—this is amazing!” she said, taking another bite. “We all ate together at a big table, so if you were hungry, you had to try and sit next to the bowls. If you sat at the ends, they were usually empty by the time they got to you.”

“Sounds like the barracks. Which is why I try and eat out whenever I can. Besides, it’s useful to know all the restaurant owners and tavern-keepers. You’d be amazed what you can learn.”

“You put a lot of work into your job, don’t you?”

“People count on me,” he said simply. 

“I know what that’s like,” she said with a sigh. “Some days it feels like the weight of the world. Keeping my team alive and together, performing all these tasks everywhere I go just to get people’s support, always working to end the Blight.”

“As well as struggling against vicious rumors and the people who believe them,” he added.

“That, too. I hope when it is time to go against the Archdemon the army at my back is fighting with me, instead of against me.”

“Like every leader, you’ll probably have some of both,” he said. Silence fell as they finished their meals.

When the proprietress came to remove the plates, Kylon’s eyes widened at the sight of Judith’s, polished clean. “I guess I don’t have to ask if you liked it,” he said.

She blushed. “That’s not very ladylike, is it? I’m afraid Grey Wardens don’t eat like birds, the way proper ladies are supposed to.”

“I like it,” he said. “I’d hate to have brought you to my favorite restaurant and have you not eat.”

“When you put it that way, it sounds much better.” She smiled across at him.

Kylon stood up. “Shall we go? If you like, we can sample something even more exciting for dessert.”

A slender blond eyebrow arched, and her cheeks turned a very becoming shade of pink. Then she coughed. “You meant food.”

“What did you think I meant?” he asked, then his own cheeks reddened as well, catching her meaning. “Ah. I like to think I’m a little more smooth than that.”

“That remains to be seen, doesn’t it?” she asked, chuckling.

“Indeed.” He put a hand on the small of her back, leading her through the maze of tables. Neither of them noticed the small rat-like man at the table in the corner who hastily called for his check after they had passed.


	4. Combat

Kylon and Judith strolled through the Market District in a companionable silence. He glanced over at her, wanting to ask questions, wanting to know more about her, but also well aware what treacherous ground that would be. She was the Grey Warden, and he was technically in the employ of men who were trying to kill her. 

“How long have you been in the Guards, Daniel?” Judith asked eventually.

“About five years. It used to be Denerim’s elite, but then we lost a lot of quality men in the army that went to Ostagar. Now we have a bunch of spoiled nobles’ bastards who get upset if they have to get their armor dirty.” 

“I’m sorry. Ostagar cost the nation dearly,” she said. 

“Judith.” When she stopped he looked quickly around, then asked quietly, “What really happened at Ostagar? I mean, there have been stories, but I’ve never talked to anyone who was really there. I mean, if you don’t mind talking about it.”

“I don’t mind,” she said, taking a deep breath before beginning. “Teyrn Loghain had agreed to wait until the beacon signal was lit, and then attack in support of the King’s troops. I was at the Council of War where the plan was made. Loghain seemed very unhappy that two Grey Wardens were given the task of lighting the beacon.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.” Judith looked around nervously. Something about that small rat-like man seemed vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t place him. “When the beacon was lit, Teyrn Loghain removed his troops from the field. My understanding is that he claims it was the only way to save them. I wasn’t on the field—I was in the Tower, fighting a swarm of darkspawn—but those men were counting on him, and he at the very least made no effort to help. And now our nation is divided with a Blight in the offing.”

They started walking again. “Had you been a Grey Warden long before the battle?” he asked.

“No, not long at all. Hours, really.”

“Are you— Did you choose to become a Warden?”

“It was chosen for me,” she said, her eyes darkening. “The First Enchanter—he’s in charge of the Circle of Magi—used me in a complicated human chess game he was playing with the Knight-Commander, and when it was over, I was on my way out of the Tower to become a Grey Warden.”

“I look forward to hearing the story.” Over her shoulder, Kylon saw movements in the shadows around them. “But maybe some other time. Got any weaponry on you?” he asked quietly.

“I’m a mage. I am the weaponry. Why?”

“Because I think I’m not the only one who saw that flyer.”

They took stock of their surroundings. “Where’s the most defensible location?” she asked. It never occurred to her to wonder if trusting him was the wrong thing to do.

He led her down an alleyway, both of them sinking back into a doorway so that they stood in shadow. A few moments afterward, a group of men came down after them, muttering. “That was that Warden witch.” “Did they come this way?” “Maybe she magicked them somewhere else?”

Judith heard a howl from the head of the alley. Sam, she thought with relief. She heard metal scrape on metal next to her. “You came armed?” she whispered softly.

“Habit. Denerim Guards aren’t that popular, either, although slightly more so than Grey Wardens.” 

The men passed the doorway. Judith saw a flash of steel, and then one of them was falling slowly forward while Kylon withdrew the dagger from his back. She counted heads quickly. Five more of them. Easily done if she had her staff and her full crew. Unarmed and with an unknown component at her side? Although he’d been quick with that dagger. She raised a hand, chanting an incantation as the men rushed the doorway, shouting out “Get the Warden!” Just in time, her Cone of Cold spread forward, catching three of them in its icy fingers. Kylon rushed forward with the dagger while Sam attacked from the other side. The mabari landed squarely on the back of one of the frozen men, causing him to shatter into a thousand pieces.

“Neat trick,” Kylon grunted, catching a sword thrust with his dagger and pushing the assailant back.

She spoke another word and electricity crackled in her palms. The mabari had another of the men down, slashing his throat with razor-sharp teeth, while Judith took hers out with the ball of electricity. Kylon ducked a sword slash, thrusting his dagger between the man’s ribs, then all three fighters turned on the small rat-faced man.

“What do you have to say for yourself?” Judith asked, and Kylon saw the Grey Warden in the beautiful woman. She rolled a small ball of fire around her fingers.

The rat-faced man cowered in the corner. “Don’t hurt me! We was just gonna take the Warden, that’s all. You’s a Denerim man, I’d split the reward with you,” he said tremblingly, looking at Kylon. 

“I’d sooner split you like a chicken,” Kylon spat. 

“Her kind’s a traitor! And a witch.”

“I’m a Grey Warden and a mage of the Circle. Two titles that used to be honored in Ferelden, and will be again,” Judith said implacably. “Daniel, what do you want to do with this man?” she asked.

He sighed. “I really should take him in,” he said.

“Duty calls,” she said, giving him a rueful smile.

“Will you be all right, if I do that?”

“I can handle myself. And I have Sam here.”

Kylon fidgeted nervously. “I hate to have our night end this way. I had a lot more ideas.”

“Maybe we could try again?” She blushed slightly, wondering what those ideas might have been.

“Yes, yes of course!” he said, knowing he sounded too eager. But what if she left Denerim and he didn’t see her again? “You know, actually … you and your team might be able to give me a hand.”

“Actual work?”

“Paid and everything. Do you think you could stay a day or two?”

“Not very long … but maybe a couple of days.” She took a step toward him, and he took her hand. 

Was it his imagination, or did he feel some vestiges of her magic tingling up his arm as they touched? Or maybe it was just her. Either way, it was having its effect on his breathing. “Until tomorrow, then?” he whispered huskily.

She nodded, smiling warmly, as he took the prisoner and hauled him none-too-gently out of the alley.


	5. Alley

Kylon was on patrol the next day, walking through the Market District, when he saw her approaching. The warrior and the Orlesian woman were with her, as was the mabari. “Grey Warden,” he said, inclining his head at her, hoping it wasn’t obvious how she took his breath away.

“Sergeant,” she said crisply, but there was a hint of a smile there. “You indicated you might have some work for us?”

“I do, indeed. We’d do it ourselves, but some of my troops might get hurt and go running off to tell their important daddies how mean those awful bad guys are. Which wouldn’t be all that helpful, as you can imagine.” He jerked his head toward the recruit he’d gotten stuck with today. The recruit was busy buffing his nails, not paying attention to them at all.

“I see your problem. What is it you need us to do?”

And so he explained—the mercenaries massing in the Pearl, harassing and abusing the girls (and the boys), disrupting Sanga’s business. “Drive them off, but no killing.”

“That’s not exactly our forte, you know,” Alistair said.

“I think we can manage,” said the Orlesian. “We’ll think of something.”

“Good.” Judith turned back to Kylon. “We’ll check in again later, then.”

“I’ll look forward to it.”

As a wide grin spread across his face, she couldn’t keep her own smile from answering. Something about him touched her, even though she kept trying to remind herself what a bad idea—and what bad timing—this was.

Judith and her crew visited the Pearl, where the White Falcons were busy carousing. Judith tried to convince them that nobles wouldn’t hire men who spent all their time drinking in a whorehouse, but the Falcons only laughed and suggested what the nobles could do with themselves in that case. Leliana piped up then, suggesting to the White Falcons that they might find better ale and more … accommodating company in a different tavern, near the Palace. Hearing that, the mercenaries marched out with smiles on their faces.   
On their way back to the Market District, the team took a detour through several back alleys. They had taken a Chanter’s board request to clear out several gangs of ruffians operating within the city, and were frankly enjoying the work. None of the ruffians had anywhere near the Wardens’ level of combat experience, and it was clear they all richly deserved the beat-down. 

“Did you see that last one? He was just in the middle of some kind of menacing speech, and bam! Shield to the head,” Alistair was saying excitedly as they strolled through yet another alley. Not watching where he was going, he smashed into Judith. “What? Oh,” he said, seeing Kylon and a troop of his men waiting in the alley.

Judith went forward, smiling at Kylon. “Anything else we can do for you, Sergeant? The White Falcons left the Pearl with smiles on their faces.”

He started to say something, but was cut off when a group of very angry White Falcons came around the corner. “Nobody tells my boys where to go but me!” shouted the leader, a very dirty man with a thatch of black hair. “At ‘em, boys!” He waved his men forward with a sweep of his arm.

Immediately Judith’s team went into action. She took a few running steps forward, chanting the Cone of Cold spell while Sam rushed forward to cover her. Alistair dove in, smashing an unfrozen soldier with his shield, and Leliana circled around the side slashing with her daggers. Judith dropped back then for a better view of the battle, hitting a small knot of men with a flame blast while keeping an eye on her party’s health. Kylon’s men, true to his grumbling, were more hindrance than help, as they milled around looking terrified. Kylon himself jumped in next to Alistair. She saw the two men exchange a look, but after a moment they seemed comfortable enough fighting side-by-side. 

Kylon was envious of Judith, working with a crew who actually knew what they were doing. He ducked a sword, but felt a maul smash into his ribs from the other side. No sooner had he looked down to take stock of the wound than he felt a cool, soothing wave wash over him, and he could feel the pain recede as the ribs knit back together. His eyes widened, and he caught Judith’s gaze across the battlefield. He understood, of course, that the healing was part of a battle … still, it felt startlingly intimate. He ran his sword through a mercenary that was circling around Leliana and plunged back into the fray.

In a remarkably short time it was over. Kylon’s recruits had mostly found safe places to go, and the mercenaries would boast of their own prowess no more. Breathing heavily, Kylon walked up to Judith. “People voluntarily attack you? They must be crazy!” he said, trying not to think how he must look, with sweat and dirt staining his face and blood all over his armor. She still looked lovely, though—there was a fire in her eyes and a flush in her cheeks that was most distracting.

“You do pretty well, yourself,” she said, grinning at him.

“If we’re all done with the mutual admiration society,” Alistair groused, but it seemed less heated than before. “You’re not bad, though.”

“Thanks.” Kylon turned back to Judith. He held out a small leather bag that clinked. “For your work with the Falcons and some extra for clearing out the alleys. Denerim—the real Denerim—is in your debt.”

“Most appreciated.” They both fidgeted for a moment. 

“Oh, look, Alistair!” Leliana said, not at all obviously. “Look … over here.”

“Huh? Oh. Over there. Right.” He followed her, not without a suspicious glance over his shoulder. 

“He still thinks I’m going to carry you off to Arl Howe, doesn’t he?”

“He’s protective. And doesn’t want to be the only Grey Warden in Ferelden. He’ll get over it.” Judith smiled at Kylon. “I don’t think you’re out to betray me, for what it’s worth.”

“Glad to hear it. Now that I’ve lulled your suspicions, I can get on with my villainous schemes.” He saw her face tighten, and winced. “Too soon, huh? Sorry. Bad attempt at humor.”

“It might be funny some other time.” 

“So, um, are you going to be in town later?”

“I don’t think so,” she said. “We have a couple of … errands to run. I don’t know how they’re going to go. We’ll be back in town tomorrow, though.”

“Ah.” He hoped devoutly that these errands weren’t something made up to discourage overly amorous suitors. “I might have another small job for you, if you’re interested.”

“Definitely. And maybe we could plan on doing something tomorrow night? We’ll have to be on our way after that, I’m afraid.”

“So soon?” He knew his emotions were showing too clearly on his face, but he really couldn’t help it.

“The Blight doesn’t wait for … um, you know.” She blushed a deep pink that was quite fetching, and it was too much for him. He stepped closer, stripping off his gauntlet and lifting his hand to her cheek. Not caring about the alley filled with dead men, or the watching recruits, or her crew members, he leaned forward. She didn’t draw away, her eyes fluttering closed, and his breath caught in his chest. Their lips touched. Hers were as soft and full as he had dreamed and the filthy alley disappeared as he gave himself up to the moment.


	6. Patrol

All that evening Kylon was snappish and cranky. The recruits scattered from any room he happened to walk into, hoping to avoid being at the wrong end of his bad mood. He knew it was utterly foolish to be feeling this way over a woman he’d known for barely a day … but knowing how all-too-brief their time would be, he hated to lose a whole evening when he could have been with her.

At one point, he stopped by the jail, checking over the day’s activity. He noticed that the rat-faced man was no longer there. Turning to the jailer on duty, a large man named Ludo who was known mostly for his endless appetite, Kylon said, “What happened to the guy in Cell 4? He gave his name as Dietrich, not that I believe it.”

Ludo shoved a thick chunk of sausage into his mouth, running his greasy fingers through the duty sheets. “It’s here somewhere,” he mumbled with his mouth full.

Kylon impatiently grabbed the forms, riffling through them himself. There it was. Dietrich had been bailed out by someone bearing an Arl’s seal. It was impossible to tell which Arl, because whoever had taken the impression of the seal had done such a shoddy job of it. Running a hand through his red hair, Kylon sighed impatiently. Much as he didn’t want to see her go, it was probably for the best that Judith was leaving after tomorrow, he thought. If the man who had tried to kill her was bailed out by an Arl, Denerim was even less safe for her than they’d thought.

“Hey, Sarge,” Ludo said jovially. “Did I hear someone saw you with a woman last night? Some kind of blond?” He made a rude noise.

“I didn’t know my personal life was of such interest to the rest of you. You want me to tell you the next time I go to the latrine?” Kylon snapped. He put the papers back on the desk. “Try and take better care of the logs, will you?” He stalked out of the room, leaving Ludo to continue dripping sausage grease all over the desk.

Kylon took extra care getting dressed the next morning. Regulation armor it might be, but it was polished to a high gleam. He could only imagine what he must have looked like after yesterday’s battle in the alley (but she kissed you anyway, didn’t she? whispered his brain). Today, he was going to look like a proper soldier. 

All through patrol, he fidgeted, wondering when she would appear. As it turned out, he was chasing down a pickpocket, cursing the tubby recruit whose sprint had petered out after four steps, when he nearly ran into her. Grinning at him, Judith spoke a word, pointed her staff at the pickpocket, and he was chilled for just long enough that Kylon could catch him with ease.

“How do you get anything done without me?”

“I’m beginning to wonder, myself,” he grinned. He handed the pickpocket off to the tubby recruit, hoping the incompetent fool could actually find the lockup and manage to hold onto the pickpocket all the way there. From the pickpocket’s cheeky smirk, Kylon strongly doubted it. Sighing, he turned back to Judith, blinking as he took in her companions. Instead of Alistair and Leliana, she was accompanied by an older woman in mage robes and a red-headed dwarf who smelled like a distillery. An old, tumble-down, ramshackle distillery. “What happened to the others?” he asked.

“Alistair and Leliana both had rather bad days yesterday. The errands I mentioned didn’t go that well. They’re back at camp …”

“Makin’ each other feel better,” the dwarf put in, chuckling suggestively.

“Something like that,” grinned Judith. “Sergeant Kylon, meet Oghren, formerly of Orzammar, and Wynne, Senior Enchanter of the Circle of Magi.”

Kylon bowed. “A pleasure.”

“Indeed,” said the older mage. “A very polite young man, I see.” She looked at Judith with a twinkle in her eyes, and Judith blushed. “Judith tells me your sister was taken to the Circle some years ago,” Wynne said, looking back at Kylon.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “About twenty years ago, now.”

“What was her name?”

“Melanie. She had red hair, like mine.”

Wynne looked thoughtful for a few moments. “I don’t remember anyone of that name and description,” she said, “but I could look for records next time I’m at the Tower.” 

“If you would, I’d be very grateful,” he said.

“You understand that many have been lost recently, between the battle at Ostagar and recent events in the Tower. The news I bring back may not be good.” She gazed at him, her eyes level and direct.

Kylon nodded. “I’d be glad for any information. My— My mother has not been the same since Melanie was taken. I’d like to be able to tell her what happened to my sister.” Wynne nodded gravely, and he looked back at Judith. “You ready for today’s challenging task?”

“Is it anything like yesterday’s?”

“Actually, it’s exactly like yesterday’s. If you can clear the Crimson Oars out of the Gnawed Noble Tavern, the proprietress will be very happy. She says in this case there’s no need to go easy on them—the patrons might relish a bit of bloodshed.”

The dwarf chuckled, then belched. “My kinda dame,” he said.

Kylon eyed the dwarf. “You collect … interesting companions,” he said in an undertone to Judith.

“You have no idea,” she said, shaking her head. “You should see the ones I can’t bring into the city.”

“There are more?” Judith just looked at him. “Never mind. Forget I asked.”

“Will I see you later?” Judith asked softly.

“I’ll be here,” he nodded. “Be careful.”

“I always am.”

It was late afternoon when she came back to the Market District. The mage and the dwarf weren’t with her, but the mabari, as always, was at her heels. Kylon had finished his patrol and gone back to the barracks to change, not wanting to lose a minute of time with her if he could help it. Judith was wearing the red dress again, her hair swirling around her shoulders. Kylon thought she looked beautiful.

He said as much as she came closer. Judith flushed, looking down at herself. “It’s the same dress,” she said, embarrassed. “Since we’re traveling so much on foot, there’s not a lot of room for … fripperies.”

“You’d be lovely no matter what you were wearing,” he said softly, and looking into his brown eyes, Judith could tell he meant it. Her stomach got all fluttery and she looked away, blushing. He grinned at her. “Ah, before I forget—“ He held out a small pouch of coins. “The proprietress at the Gnawed Noble was most pleased, although she’d have preferred more bloodshed,” he said, grinning.

“That’s not what we’re used to hearing,” she said, smiling, as she tucked the pouch away.

Kylon held his arm out for her. “What would you like to do this evening?”

“Something that doesn’t involve being ambushed in an alley? That’s getting quite boring,” she said, faking a yawn. She slid her arm through his.

“Well, there go my plans,” he complained. “I had a gang of ruffians just waiting.” She gave the attempt a small smile. “That was a bit obvious, wasn’t it?” he said.

“You’ll have to work on your humor before I come back to Denerim, Daniel,” she said. His heart leaped in his chest at the implied promise, but he didn’t dare press her on it, in case he had misunderstood.

“You have my word,” he said softly.


	7. Gift

They wandered through the Market District for a little while, stopping to look at the various wares for sale. “It’s amazing how much there is,” Judith said.

“People come here to trade from all over Thedas,” Kylon said proudly. He looked at her curiously. “Where were you from, before you were taken to the Tower?”

“Originally I’m from a small town in the Frostbacks, not far from the entrance to Orzammar,” she said. “Most of what I remember is snow—falling from the sky, so quiet and still and powerful. It’s one reason I’m particularly drawn to ice and cold spells.”

Kylon studied her thoughtfully for a moment. “I can see that,” he said.

She looked ahead, her eyes far away. “I thought about dropping by to see if I could find my family when we went to Orzammar.” She shrugged. “But I guess I spent too many years in the Tower. Would they even recognize me? Or care? It didn’t seem worth it, to go all that way just in case. You know?”

“For what it’s worth,” he said, “if my sister dropped in one day, we might not recognize her, but we’d be thrilled to see her.” 

Judith looked up at him, seeing the tenderness in his brown eyes. “Thank you. It’s worth a lot, actually.” She swallowed the tears that stung the back of her throat.  
They walked over to a table of jewelry and charms. The same one, he noted, that she’d been looking at when they met. She put her hand out toward a delicate silver bracelet etched in a pattern of swirling snowflakes, then drew it back again, turning her attention with some difficulty to the more practical amulets.

Kylon picked up the bracelet, quietly negotiating with the stall owner. Judith caught on to what was happening a bit too late. “Daniel!” she said. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Maybe not,” he said. “But I wanted to.” He held the bracelet out, and she let him clasp it on her wrist. It fit as if it had been made for her. “Besides, now you’ll have a reason to remember me when you’re … wherever you’re going.”

“Do you think I’d need a piece of jewelry for that?” she asked softly, her blue eyes serious.

“It can’t hurt,” he said. They smiled at each other.

“Thank you,” she said, turning the bracelet on her wrist. “I’ll treasure it.”

Later he took her to an Orlesian restaurant. In camp, Judith had tasted a rudimentary version of the dish they ate—Leliana had cobbled it together—but the real thing was much, much better. Delicate sauce, tender meat, fresh vegetables. “I’m going to hate going back on the road to eat campfire food again,” she said when the waitress took her highly polished plate away. 

“No gourmets in camp, I take it?” 

“No, we have a couple of decent cooks, but there’s a limit to what you can prepare out in the open. And when it rains? Beef jerky and crackers.” She groaned.

“Sounds appetizing.”

“At least we usually have food,” Judith said. “It could be a lot worse.”

They were leaving the restaurant now. Kylon tucked her arm under his, enjoying the warmth of her body next to him. “I’m glad you have so many devoted companions,” he said. “I— I hope they can keep you safe on your travels.”

“They’ve done quite well so far,” Judith said. She hoped he wouldn’t ask for details, but trusted that he understood how impossible it would be for her to discuss her plans with him.

Kylon glanced at the sky, which was darkening rapidly. “Do you want to go somewhere else?” he asked.

“I’ll need to head back to camp before too long,” she said reluctantly. “Could we find somewhere quiet to go for a little while?”

He thought for a moment, then led her through another set of small streets and alleys to a hidden courtyard where a fountain splashed. “I like to come here when life in the barracks is a bit too impossible. Honestly, some nights you can’t hear yourself think,” he said.

“Aren’t any of your recruits any good?”

“Some would be, if I could get some discipline going. But between their noble fathers wanting their bastards coddled and the general disorder of any type of law enforcement in Denerim these days, discipline is a thing of the past.” He dug out a handkerchief and swept some debris off the edge of the fountain.

Judith sat down on the edge of the fountain, enjoying the beautiful evening, the soft splashing of the water, and the attentiveness of the man at her side.

Kylon sat next to her, their shoulders not quite touching. “Judith,” he said. He took her slender hand in his, the contact warming them both. “This may sound ridiculous,” he said.

“How ridiculous?” she asked.

“Not ridiculously ridiculous,” he said, smiling. “Hopefully just a little ridiculous.” He looked up and into her blue eyes. “It’s just that … even though we’ve known each other only two days, you make me feel things I never imagined. I just wanted you to know before you leave that I’ll be here when … if … you come back.” He started to say something else, but she placed her cool fingertips over his lips.

“Daniel, you’ve become very special to me in this short time,” she said. “I will be back, and I hope we can pick this up where we’ve left off.”

He kissed the fingertips that had been over his lips, their eyes meeting in the dim twilight. One arm slid around her waist while his other hand reached up, brushing her hair back from her face. He closed his hand gently on the back of her head, leaning in to touch her lips with his. As their mouths met, she opened hers with a sigh, reaching up to tangle her fingers in his red hair. Kylon pulled her closer, his hands moving over her back as his tongue met hers. The world narrowed to the two of them as they lost themselves in the feel of each other.

Neither of them noticed the shadow that separated itself from the darkness, slinking down the alleyways. Across the city, the shadow was let into the palace of the Arl of Denerim. The light shone briefly on his rat-like face before the door closed.


	8. Camp

Judith and her crew were camped outside the little hamlet of Haven, deep in the southern Frostbacks, about a month later. Their quest to retrieve Andraste’s ashes had been successful, and they were heading back toward Redcliffe Castle in the morning. Despite the cold, there was an atmosphere of celebration in the camp. Oghren had contributed some of his truly terrible ale, Leliana had brought out some fine Orlesian wine she was saving, and even Wynne had dug out a bottle of mage-made spirits. Everyone had imbibed freely and they were now laying around the campfire, lazily passing the last bottle of wine.

Sitting a little apart from the rest, Judith managed to skip most of the bottle’s rounds. The rest of them deserved the chance to relax, and she was happy to give it to them, but someone had to stay relatively alert and on watch. And she didn’t feel particularly merry. She was still, after all this time, surprised by how much she missed Daniel. Unbelievable, really—after two days of knowing each other, she found even now that she turned to make a comment to him as though she expected him to be there right behind her. More often than not, it was Alistair or the elf assassin, Zevran, there instead. She turned the bracelet on her wrist, sighing.

“She’s mopin’ again,” Oghren brayed. 

“Thinking of her long-lost lover.” Even Zevran’s accented tones were slurred by now, and he took a swig from the bottle, his eyes gone all misty with some kind of memory. At any other time, Judith would have been tempted to probe into that memory. Zev didn’t let his true feelings show that often.

Leliana giggled. “I think there are certain things that have to happen before you can be called—“

“A lover,” Alistair chimed in, parodying Zev’s accent horribly. Judith frowned. Alistair was like the brother she’d never had—equal parts warmly protective and deeply annoying. She was particularly irritated by his assumption that sharing a tent with Leliana for a few months made him experienced in the ways of men and women. It didn’t match years in the Tower, where the combination of magic, proximity, and the forbiddenness of it all had made amorous activity the rebellion of choice among the apprentices. Judith had seen entirely too many of her former lovers either lying dead in the Tower or turned into abominations, and she could still feel the dagger she had thrust into the stomach of Jowan, her first, as though she’d stabbed herself along with him. There had always been something in Jowan that was a little too weak, a little too eager to find the easy way out. It shouldn’t have been such a surprise when he turned out to be a blood mage. And looking back on it, Judith suspected it hadn’t been a surprise to the First Enchanter. 

Looking up, she caught Wynne’s sympathetic gaze across the campfire, as though the older mage had been following Judith’s thoughts. Rumor had it that Wynne’s own youth had been quite wild, even by mage standards. Judith wondered how many of Wynne’s lovers had been turned into abominations, how many she’d seen taken down by the Templars, how many had succumbed to the temptations of power and pleasure offered by the misuse of magic. 

The party was winding down, Leliana half-dragging Alistair back to their tent, Oghren snoring where he had fallen, his ale mug cradled in his arm. Sten, the qunari, and Morrigan, the apostate mage, were nowhere to be found. Neither was particularly fond of fraternizing with the rest of the company—and the feeling tended to be very mutual. As long as they were there for the fighting, Judith didn’t much care where they went at night. 

She watched with some amusement as a tipsy Zevran made yet another of his constant attempts to get at Wynne’s bosom. The mage waved him off like a gnat, nowhere near drunk enough to give in the elf’s cajoling.

At last, they both went into their tents, leaving Judith alone in the chill night, staring up at the stars and twisting the bracelet on her wrist.


	9. Reunion

It had been over two months since Judith had left Denerim, Kylon reflected, and he still looked for her in the Market District every day. All day, if he was being completely honest with himself. He kept trying to stop—after all, would she really need to return to Denerim amongst all the other tasks ahead of her? If she did, would she still be interested in “picking up where they’d left off,” as she had put it? But the memory of the impassioned kisses they’d shared kept coming back to him, causing an entirely juvenile reaction at the most inopportune moments. 

He hadn’t wasted the time, however. While she’d been gone, he’d been quietly talking to people—first those she had helped while she was in town, and then a slowly widening circle of contacts, trying to challenge the rumors about the Grey Wardens and to build up support for them. It required a lot of circumspection, as there were many in Denerim who were eager to curry favor with the new Arl by bringing him any Grey Warden sympathizers. Fortunately for Kylon, given the general collapse of the authority structure in Denerim law enforcement, he had a fair amount of autonomy and few people checking up on his activities. 

One rainy afternoon, he was in the midst of his tour on patrol—stuck, today, with Garvey, who was probably the least intelligent guardsman Kylon had ever had to deal with. Patrol with Garvey was one long day trying to keep him from messing anything up. Kylon had a meeting scheduled with Ignacio, a merchant whom he suspected of being a member of the Antivan Crow assassination ring, but had to cancel it. There was no chance of getting anything out of the Crow with Garvey around. Far more chance of getting them both knifed, frankly. So he was particularly cranky already when he looked around the Market District and noticed that Garvey had disappeared. Kylon spat a curse, heading toward the seedy dive bar where Garvey liked to drink when he could slip away. 

Kylon turned a corner, and far at the end of the street saw Garvey and four other guardsmen, all apparently more or less drunk, in a standoff with a group of cloaked travelers. The travelers were well-armed and -armored, accompanied by a mabari. A mabari? he thought, quickening his pace as his heartrate sped up. It couldn’t be, could it?

As he came closer, he could hear Garvey, his voice thick and slurred with ale. “Just put them weapons down and let us take ya in peaceable-like.”

“We don’t want to hurt you,” said the unmistakable voice, the voice of Kylon’s dreams. “But we will if you don’t stand aside and leave us be.”

“There’s five of us and three of you, sweet cheeks,” brayed Morton, one of the other guardsmen. He wasn’t known for treating women well. “Two of you women. You think you can stand against us?” He laughed unpleasantly. “Not that I’d mind you trying. I love a wiggly woman fighter up against me.” He made a lewd gesture, and the other guardsmen laughed.

Kylon was close enough to Judith and her crew now to see their expressions. The two women were keeping their tempers, recognizing that they were being baited, but Alistair and the mabari were about to start the fight if someone didn’t shut that idiot up. Kylon had no illusions about who would win—and he knew also who would be getting the grief for letting the Grey Warden kill and/or maim five guardsmen. 

None of the guards heard him coming up behind them, too busy making asses of themselves. He slung his arm around Morton’s neck, lifting the man off the ground. Morton gasped for breath, his hands scrabbling at Kylon’s arm. “Boys, are you aware that this is the Grey Warden and her party?” Kylon asked conversationally. He let Morton down just enough to let the man catch a breath, but held his arm over Morton’s windpipe. After his words to Judith, Kylon was tempted kill the man himself. 

Over Morton’s shoulder, Kylon caught Judith’s eye. She looked different, somehow, more vibrant. And she wore a sword on her back instead of the staff. Her blue eyes were bright and there was a hint of a smile on her face as she looked at him. 

“Grey Warden,” snorted one of the other guardsmen. “She’s just some wimpy mage. Doesn’t even know how to use that sword. We can take her.”

“Hey, standing right here, sword at the ready,” Alistair protested. “I’ve got at least two of you. Probably three.” The mabari gave an assenting growl.

“These folks have fought darkspawn, abominations, ogres, alleys full of Denerim mercenaries, and Maker knows what else,” Kylon said sternly. “You five have entire days where you do nothing more strenuous than lift ale mugs. The Warden and her party could take you out in minutes and come away snow-white as Andraste’s ti—uh, bosom.”

Garvey looked around, sensing a shift in the opinions of his fellow guardsmen. “Come on, fellas, we were gonna take the Grey Warden,” he whined.

“Sarge is right, Garvey,” said another recruit, Dunstan. “Look at ‘em. All prepared like that? ‘Sides, why bother? The Blight’ll take them out, sure as the Maker took off and left us.”

“I don’t know whether to commend you for your good sense, Dunstan, or give you a month’s KP for that fine example of apathy. And all five of you should properly be under arrest for drinking on duty,” Kylon said firmly. “But I’ll let it pass. This time. Get back to the barracks, and next time, don’t try to attack someone drunk you couldn’t take out when sober.” He took his arm off Morton’s throat, standing aside as the recruits filed, grumbling, out of the alley. When the last one was gone, he turned back to Judith. “You’re looking well,” he said cautiously, searching her face.

Judith’s heart was pounding. They had—she had—been less circumspect than usual in her eagerness to find him, and they’d walked straight into this standoff. She hadn’t been worried about losing a fight with five drunk guards, but killing them wouldn’t have been conducive to the low profile she and her team needed to keep. And then to have him walk into the middle of it! “Daniel,” she said, unable to keep the smile off her face any longer. An answering smile brightened his face, his brown eyes holding hers. 

“Oh, hey, look, buildings,” Judith heard Alistair say, and from the corner of her eye she could see him leading Leliana off. Sam sat down, his stumpy tail pounding the dusty cobblestones. 

And then Daniel’s hands were on her shoulders, pulling her close to him, his mouth coming down on hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing herself closer. It was awkward in the armor, but neither of them cared. 

“I missed you,” he whispered raggedly.

“Glad to hear it,” she sighed. “I missed you, too.”

With difficulty, he made himself let go of her. “I’m still on duty,” he said reluctantly. “Can we resume this later?”

“Count on it,” she said. She blushed a vivid pink, then handed him a small key. “Meet me at the Pearl?”

“Since when does Sanga rent rooms?” he asked breathlessly. The images in his head were going to make him as useless as Garvey the rest of the afternoon. 

“Since she owes me one,” Judith said. She grinned at the expression on his face. “Enjoy your guard duty, Daniel,” she said, turning and heading back down the alley with Sam at her heels.

Enjoy his guard duty, indeed, he thought, his armor suddenly feeling very uncomfortable.


	10. Together

It was entirely too many hours later that Kylon was finally able to enter the Pearl, reddening at the knowing look on Sanga’s face as he crossed through the main tavern and climbed the stairs to room 220, the number on the little key that had been burning in his pocket all afternoon. He knocked first before turning the key in the lock, and slowly opened the door.

Below, in the tavern, a small rat-faced man pushed the whore off his lap and got up. He left the tavern, a distinct leer on his face, and made his way across town to the Arl of Denerim’s palace, where he was expected.

Back at the Pearl, Kylon stepped inside room 220, his throat dry and his heart pounding. Would she be there? He let his breath out in a sigh of relief when he saw her turn from the window to smile at him. “Have you been waiting here all day?” he asked. He held out the bouquet of flowers he had brought.

“No. Just about half an hour. We were wrapping up a few things,” she said. She took the flowers, burying her nose in them. He thought he’d never seen anyone so lovely in all his life. She had on different armor than before. This set was deep blue leather and pushed her breasts up enticingly. He found the expanse of creamy leg between the top of her boots and the bottom of her leather skirt entrancing. Judith bit her lip. “I’m afraid I’m only in town until tomorrow morning. Then we have to get back on the road.”

He nodded, disappointed but understanding. “I’m just glad we have tonight,” he said huskily, taking a step closer to her. “We do, don’t we?” It suddenly occurred to him that maybe he shouldn’t be taking the situation so for granted.

But Judith smiled. “Until sunrise,” she said. She put the flowers down on the table, and picked up a bottle of wine that had been chilling. She gestured toward a glass and he nodded, his throat dry. 

Taking the glass of golden wine she handed him, he said, “Where did the sword come from? That’s new.”

Looking at him out of the corner of her eye as she poured her own glass, she said, “It’s called Spellweaver. I took it off of a mage cultist in the Temple of Andraste when we went to get the sacred ashes.”

Kylon’s jaw dropped. “You didn’t.” She nodded, her blue eyes twinkling. “You … The Urn of Sacred Ashes? I thought that was a myth.”

“Apparently not, as it turns out.”

“No wonder you didn’t tell me where you were going. I wouldn’t have believed you.”

“Most people wouldn’t believe half the things I’ve done,” she said, sitting down on the bed with her wine glass in hand and crossing one long, slender leg over the other. 

“Is it … almost over?”

Judith sighed, taking a long sip of wine. “I still have a couple of loose ends to tie up, and then after that … things get more complicated.” She studied the glass intently. “You know they’re calling for a Landsmeet.”

“I’d heard.”

She looked up, and her blue eyes met his, the look direct and uncompromising. “Where do you stand, Daniel? We intend to have Loghain off the throne. Are you with him?”

The question rocked him back on his heels, and he took a large gulp of the wine. “You know I don’t agree with what he and Arl Howe have done here,” he said finally. “But declaring myself on a side against them is … not what I have been trained to do.”

“None of us have,” she said wearily. “I was trained as a scholar, learning magic that would never—or rarely—be used outside the walls of the Tower. And now I’m a Grey Warden putting an army together to defeat a usurper and stop a Blight. Ferelden demands that we leave our comfort zones in this crisis.” 

“You’re right,” he admitted. He took a deep breath. “I am against the Blight and for Ferelden,” he said. “I’m with you. In fact, I’ve been drumming up supporters for the Grey Wardens. You’ve impressed a large number of people,” he grinned. 

Judith smiled back at him. “I’m glad to hear it. I hope you’re not putting yourself in any danger?”

“Not as far as I can tell. It’s hard to say what Arl Howe knows—or how much he cares—but I think I’m in decent shape. I can’t see it helping anyone if Denerim degenerates into anarchy.” They sipped their wine quietly for a few moments. Then Kylon cleared his throat. “Er, Judith?” She raised her eyebrows. “About … what we’re about to do?” She grinned wickedly. “Do you … Should we use some kind of … protection?”

“Ah,” she said softly, looking suddenly sad. “Apparently it’s time to let you know one of the less savory things that come with being a Grey Warden.”

He hated to see the shadows in her blue eyes. He put the wine glass down on the table and sat down next to her, taking her hand in his. “Tell me.”

“I probably will never be able to have a child. There’s a ritual … it’s hard to explain.”

It hadn’t occurred to Kylon to think that far into the future, and he thought it sounded quite sad never to have a child—a little girl with blond hair, for example. “That’s tomorrow’s problem,” he said quietly, taking the wine glass from her hand and setting it on the table with his. “We have enough to worry about today without adding more issues that belong to a future after the Blight.” His fingers traced the side of her face, watching her eyes close as she leaned into his caress. “For right now, the only problem that concerns us is how to get this armor off you.” He grinned. 

“You’re a clever fellow,” she said. “I’m sure you can figure it out yourself.”

“Minx,” he growled. He bent, kissing the creamy soft swells of her breasts revealed by the lowcut bodice of her armor, as his hands slid down her sides, searching for the buckles. His fingers had trouble working the clasps, though, and she pushed his hands aside, laughing softly. 

“Very smooth, Daniel.” 

“Maybe I can retrieve my reputation,” he said, helping her lift the armor and padding over her head. He drew in his breath, seeing her sitting there in only boots and smallclothes. “You are amazingly beautiful,” he said.

“Good save.” Judith found the hem of his tunic, pulling it up and over his head. She ran her hands over the muscles of his chest and over his broad shoulders, enjoying the shivers produced by her touch. She threaded her hands in his red hair, pulling him closer, and their mouths met. They shifted so that she was straddling his lap as their tongues danced together. He moaned at the warmth of bare skin meeting bare skin for the first time, his hands searching for the clasp of her breastband, needing to feel her breasts against him. 

They spilled forth into his hands as he tossed the flimsy piece of fabric across the room, and he broke the kiss as she leaned back, each movement of her body causing her to press against his length, still trapped inside his pants. “Ah, Maker,” he groaned, stroking her breasts. Judith arched her back, giving him better access, as his mouth slowly trailed down over her throat and past her collarbones until he was softly nibbling at the very tops of her breasts. She moaned protestingly as he teased her by continuing to stroke and lightly bite everywhere but the hardened peaks.   
Daniel laid her back gently onto the pillows, his mouth seeking one puckered nipple. Judith gasped at the sensation, fire shooting all through her. She pressed up against him as he moved to the other nipple. Then he sat back, his hands slowly making their way across her flat stomach to caress her hips, sliding under the edges of her smallclothes, thumbs resting just shy of the wetness she was begging him to touch.

Two could play at this game, Judith thought, sitting up and pressing her mouth to a white scar on his shoulder. “Where’s this from?” she whispered, her hands roaming over his chest and stomach as her mouth trailed up to his neck. 

“Knife fight,” he gasped, cupping her rear through her smallclothes and barely able to speak as her hands slid down over his stomach to play with the button of his pants. “Downstairs. Should’ve seen … ah … the other guy,” he managed, as she finished with the fastenings of his pants and began to push them down, her breasts brushing ever so lightly across his hard, aching length. He stood, shedding his pants and smallclothes in one swift motion, then climbed back onto the bed. Judith had finished undressing while he was distracted, and they lay naked together for the first time, both sighing at the friction between their bodies. Daniel’s hand moved between her legs, feeling the wetness there and hearing her small whimpers as he caressed her core, sliding a finger inside her as she twisted underneath him. 

“Daniel,” she gasped, her hands reaching for him. He moaned as she made contact with his length. “Please, now, Daniel.” 

Nearly at the breaking point of his control, he couldn’t deny her. He allowed her hands to guide him, his eyes closing in ecstasy as he felt her warmth close around him. Judith threw her head back, sighing in pleasure, as he began to move, their mouths meeting again and again as their bodies undulated together in increasing urgency, their tension building inexorably to its peak.

As their bodies cooled, the lovers lay in each other’s arms. Daniel pressed soft kisses to her cheeks, her eyelids, her nose, until she drew away, smiling. “I don’t suppose you’re hungry.”

“Who needs food?” he said, reaching for her hand as she climbed from the bed. 

“I do. Grey Warden, insatiable appetite, remember?” 

“I certainly hope so,” he grinned, sitting up.

Judith blushed. “I’ll have something brought up, then.”

“You’ll have to,” he said, pulling her back to him and running a caressing hand down her back. “Because I’m not letting you out of here until I absolutely must.”


	11. Morning

A peremptory knock on the door in the predawn woke them as they lay wrapped in each other’s arms. Daniel groaned, trying reluctantly to untangle himself. “I’ll be as useless as my recruits today,” he said, climbing out of the bed.

Judith looked up at him, seeming remarkably fresh for the very small amount of sleep they’d had. She stretched languidly and Daniel groaned. “If you do that again, we’ll have to take the room for another day, because I won’t be able to keep my hands off you.”

She looked tempted, then sighed. “Alistair would come knock down the door. Or he’d have Oghren do it.”

“He still doesn’t trust me?”

“He’s getting there. Give it time.” She stood up, searching for her clothes. “You know, I think that was the most restful night’s sleep I’ve had since Ostagar.”

“You’re kidding. We barely closed our eyes all night—not that I’m complaining,” he said, grinning at her.

Judith looked at him, her blue eyes serious. “It’s the first night since I became a Grey Warden that I haven’t been plagued by nightmares about darkspawn and the Archdemon. Another side effect of the ritual,” she explained.

“Glad I could help,” he said softly. He handed her the breastband he’d tossed across the room last night, kissing her bare shoulder. Judith’s hand cupped the side of his face, and he smiled at the sight of the silver bracelet glittering on her wrist. “You’re still wearing it.”

“I haven’t taken it off since you put it on,” she said, her voice a caress. “Nor will I.” 

They looked into each other’s eyes for a moment, and then they clung together. “Please be careful out there,” he whispered into her hair. “I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you.”

Judith took his face between her hands. “You know, if I had an extra fighter, I’d be even safer.”

Daniel raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

She took a deep breath. “Come with me, Daniel.”

“Oh. Oh, Maker.” He sat down on the edge of the bed. “Not that I wouldn’t want to—I can’t imagine anything I’d like more—but I just don’t think I can. I’m not exaggerating the state of affairs here, Judith. There are a lot of good people in Denerim who count on me. And it’s only going to get worse before it gets better. I’m sorry.”

“I understand. It’s— This is hard on everyone,” she said. “Daniel, be careful, please,” she added suddenly. “Don’t take your position for granted.”

He looked at her through the top of his tunic, then shrugged the shirt the rest of the way on before getting up to embrace her again. “Don’t worry about me,” he said. “You’re the one out there on the front lines. Worry about you, and I’ll be here when you come back.”

“Promise?” 

“Promise.”

A second, even more peremptory knock sounded, and they knew their time was up. They hastily finished dressing and shared a long, lingering kiss before he let her leave first. He watched out the window as she left the Pearl, Sam at her heels. He must have been kenneled all night. Kylon was relieved that she had the mabari with her. Once she’d turned a corner and was gone, he left, as well. Sanga tried to catch his eye as he left, but he was running late, so he just waved at her on his way out.

Halfway to the barracks, a carriage pulled up next to him, and a man in the livery of the Arl of Denerim stepped out. “Sergeant Kylon?” The voice was brusque and the man looked suspiciously like a thug Kylon had collared a few weeks back.

“Yes?” he said warily.

“I have orders to bring you to the Arl.”

“I have to report for duty,” Kylon said, every instinct telling him to stall. “Can it wait until after that?”

“Afraid not, Sergeant. I have orders to bring you now.”

Cursing himself for having left his dagger in the barracks, Kylon could tell he had little choice in the matter. He got into the carriage, and felt it rumble across the cobblestones to the Arl of Denerim’s estate.


	12. Captured

Kylon stood in the midst of the great hall in the Arl of Denerim’s estate. The messenger had left him there alone about half an hour ago, and the wait was making him increasingly nervous. What did the Arl of Denerim want with him anyway? 

Finally he heard a door open and close behind him, and the Arl stood before him. He was a small man, wearing ill-fitting clothes and looking quite pleased with himself. “Ah, Sergeant,” he said in a rather oily voice. “Kylon, is it?”

Kylon nodded, watching. The Arl had a retinue of four guards standing at attention behind him. Kylon thought he recognized at least two of them as men he had arrested. And at the end of the line stood the rat-faced man who had attacked them, the one who had given his name as Dietrich, smirking unpleasantly. This was not looking good.

“You may be wondering why I had you brought here,” the Arl continued. When Kylon didn’t answer, he said sharply, “Answer when spoken to!”

“Yes, ser.” 

“That’s more like it. Do you have any thoughts as to why you’ve been brought here?”

He had several, but didn’t intend to volunteer any. “No, ser.” He did his best to keep his face impassive.

“You don’t think, perhaps, that it might have something to do with the Grey Warden?”

Kylon had suspected as much. “Grey Warden, ser?” he asked blankly.

The Arl looked at him almost pityingly. “Please, Sergeant. Do not insult my intelligence. You’ve been seeing her. You’ve been—“ he wrinkled his nose delicately, sniffing, “lying with her.” When Kylon didn’t say anything, the Arl snapped, “Well, ser, what do you have to say for yourself?” 

Anything he said would get him in even deeper trouble, so Kylon remained silent.

“I see we’re not going to deny it,” the Arl said with a half-smile. “A wise decision, as I have enough proof to have you thrown in jail for aiding and abetting a traitor to the crown. Would you like that, Sergeant,” he purred, almost in Kylon’s ear, “being in jail with all those men you put there? I’m sure they’d have a … warm welcome for you.” He paused, then said, “Still no answer, I see. Perhaps, since you’re being so uncooperative, we’ll get down to business, then.”

Kylon looked at the Arl, but felt silence was still the safest course.

“As you might expect,” the Arl said smoothly, pacing back and forth in front of Kylon, “I want something from you. Or why would I have you brought here, eh?” He smiled as if at a shared joke. “And what do I want? Well, that’s quite simple. I want the Grey Warden.”

“Ser?”

“I want you to bring me the Grey Warden.”

“With all due respect, ser, if you know I’ve been seeing her, couldn’t you have picked her up yourself?”

“Perhaps you didn’t hear me, Sergeant.” The voice was smooth, but there was something underneath it, something hard but corroded. “I want you to bring me the Grey Warden.”

“Why me, ser?”

“Because I don’t just want the Grey Warden, Sergeant. I want the Grey Warden broken.”

Kylon’s eyes widened. He swallowed, trying to maintain his composure. “What makes you think I could break her, ser? It was a night’s tumble.” 

The hint of amusement was completely gone from the voice now. “Do you think you can play with me? I know all about you, Daniel Kylon. And I know all about Judith Amell, too.” He nodded with a sneer at Dietrich, who grinned widely. “That was no tumble. She cares for you. If you—her lover—bring her to me, the betrayal will break her. And that is what I want.”

So the gloves were off. Well, then. “Why would I do that? She’s the only hope the citizens of Ferelden have against people like you.” White-hot pain shot through him and he shook his head to clear it, watching as the Arl took the brass knuckles off his hand. Kylon could feel blood trickle down from several small cuts on the side of his face.

“Did you enjoy that, Sergeant? That’s what happens to men who mouth off to their betters.” The Arl was breathing hard, but the voice was smooth and half-amused again. “Have I given you any indication that you have a choice?”

Kylon touched his jaw. Sore, but not broken. He stayed silent, reevaluating the situation. He had little to no hope of doing the six men in front of him any damage, and even less that they were going to let him go. He should have gone with Judith, he thought. Fat lot of good he was going to do the citizens of Denerim getting himself killed by the Arl.

“No?” The Arl cocked his head to the side, studying Kylon. “Since you don’t have a choice, why not just agree to do what I want right now, and then you’ll be back on the streets of your beloved Denerim in no time, little the worse for wear.”

“And if I don’t?”

Smiling, the Arl snapped his fingers. Two of the guards behind him moved forward swiftly, pinning Kylon’s arms almost before he could move. They hadn’t been this well-trained when he’d arrested them, he thought. Then the Arl put the brass knuckles back on and buried his hand in Kylon’s midsection, causing Kylon to double over in pain. The Arl leaned over to whisper in his ear, “If you don’t, you and I will be getting to know each other very, very well. And it will only be pleasant for one of us.” He circled around Kylon as Kylon straightened up again. He let out a startled yelp when he felt the Arl’s hand cup his backside. “You’re lucky,” the Arl purred, “that you’re a handsome young man. Or perhaps you won’t think you’re so lucky.”

“Why not just kill me?” Kylon muttered.

“Where would be the fun in that?” the Arl said in surprise. “Besides, what a waste of a resource. No, you’ll be alive until the Grey Warden comes back. One way or another, you will bring her to me. If you won’t do it willingly, I’ll just have to use you myself. Which, I have to admit, I think I’ll enjoy a lot more.” He pinched Kylon’s buttock. “I don’t suppose you want to tell me when she’s coming back?”

“She didn’t tell me,” Kylon said, glad that it was the truth.

“Wise girl. That Warden is no fool. Unlike the other one,” the Arl sneered. “Perhaps you could tell me where she’s gone.” Kylon shook his head. “Ah, but you know, don’t you?” There was no use denying it. The Arl would believe what he wanted, and he’d be tortured anyway. The Arl’s eyes lit up. “Oh, Sergeant, we’re going to have such fun together.” He snapped his fingers again. “Take him away, boys. Chain him up and let him consider the error of his ways.”

The two guards hauled Kylon away between them. The first tendrils of fear snaked into his mind as he realized there was no escape from the mess he suddenly found himself in.


	13. Showdown

Judith fidgeted impatiently in the hall of Arl Eamon’s lovely Denerim estate, as the Arl paced in front of them worrying about Loghain. This was all well and good, she thought, but she wanted to get away and find Daniel. She’d been worried about him ever since they’d left. He was so confident in his own usefulness to the city, it never seemed to occur to him that other people were far less concerned with the day-to-day running of it than he was. She didn’t really think anything would happen to him, but she knew she’d feel much better once she’d seen his face and confirmed for herself that he was all right.

As Eamon paced, the great doors opened, and in stepped Teyrn Loghain himself, flanked by his lieutenant, Ser Cauthrien, and the current Arl of Denerim, Rendon Howe. The three of them walked through the hall as if they owned the place—or were thinking of buying it. And renovating extensively, to judge from the disdainful looks on their faces.

“Eamon,” Loghain said shortly.

“Loghain. I had hardly expected this honor, to be visited by the Regent himself. And so soon.”

“How could I not, when you have such important things to say? So important that you’ve called every noble in the land away from their people and the defense of their holdings against the darkspawn,” Loghain sneered.

“Oh, so you’ve noticed the darkspawn, have you?” Eamon countered. “I thought you’d been too busy leading troops against your own countrymen to pay attention to such a minor annoyance as a Blight.” The two men glared at each other. “Ferelden must have a king, Loghain. Surely you must see that.”

“Ferelden has all the monarch it needs in its queen. With my counsel, Anora is twice the ruler Cailan was. Or Maric, for that matter.”

“If she’s so competent, why not let her speak for herself?” Judith put in. “Why act as though your daughter needs you as her mouthpiece if you’re so confident in her leadership?”

Loghain looked at the mage as he would have looked at a beetle he was about to crush. “You’ve collected an interesting group of castoffs, Eamon,” he said. “If you think our country is going to be helped by pushing forward royal bastards and uppity mages, your recent illness has addled you more than rumor has given it credit for.”

“Well, at least you’re admitting the royal part,” Alistair said. “That’s a start.”

“We intend to make you pay for your betrayal at Ostagar,” Judith said.

Loghain stepped closer to her. “I am sorry for what happened to the rest of your order,” he said. “It would be a shame for the Grey Wardens of Ferelden to be completely wiped out. Don’t you think so?” 

Judith stared back at him. “There is not enough power in Thedas to keep you from answering for what you’ve done,” she hissed.

“Silence, churl!” said Ser Cauthrien. “That is no way to speak to your betters.” Judith’s eyes flashed and her mouth opened to snarl back at the lieutenant.

Eamon stepped forward between the two women. “When the Landsmeet assembles, Loghain, you will have to plead your case to all of Ferelden, not just carefully chosen toadies and sycophants.” His eyes drifted over Arl Howe dismissively.

Judith looked over at the Arl as well, and caught him staring at her with something in his eyes that looked very much like triumph. A shiver ran through her as she felt a sense of dark foreboding. Whatever was making Howe look like that, she was sure she wasn’t going to like it.

“I had hoped to talk you out of this rashness, Eamon,” Loghain said. “What is needed now is solidarity, not tearing the nation apart over a bastard Grey Warden who happens to look like our king.”

“If you want solidarity,” Judith said urgently, “join us in battle against the Archdemon. What could be more important than that?”

“Why should I waste my resources backing Orlesians? After all I’ve done to free this land from their domination?”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about, Teyrn Loghain,” Judith said, “but I was born in Ferelden and have lived here all my life. Your hatred of Orlais has muddied your thinking. Snap out of it so we can stop wasting our energy fighting each other.”

Loghain shook his head at her and she could tell she hadn’t reached him. “We’ll see you at your Landsmeet, Eamon. I hope you are prepared to lose.” The three of them turned on their heels to leave. Arl Howe gave one more look over his shoulder at Judith, an unpleasant smile on his face.

Eamon turned to the rest of them. “I hardly recognize him. He’s never been like this!”

“It sounds as though his fear of Orlesian domination has taken over his mind,” Judith said quietly. “It’s a shame. He was a powerful force for Ferelden, once.” She sighed.

“Be that as it may,” Eamon said more calmly, “Loghain and Howe have been in Denerim for quite some time, and we don’t know what kind of schemes they have going. We’ll need eyes and ears in the city. You should—“ He started to tell Judith what the plan should be, but she interrupted him, blushing slightly.

“I know just where to go,” she said, trying to contain her eagerness.

At Eamon’s bewildered look, Alistair grinned. “Judith’s got the ‘eyes and ears’ of the city at her beck and call.” She blushed more deeply, and his eyes twinkled as he said, “Although I suspect it’s not the eyes and ears that cause the blushing.”

Judith smacked at his arm. “That’ll be enough out of you,” she said.

“Shall we, then?” Alistair asked, as Eamon watched both of them, looking confused.

“Indeed,” she said eagerly, and Alistair laughed.


	14. Missing

Walking through Denerim, Judith fidgeted in her new armor. It was made in the Dalish style, just a brief top and short skirt that left her entire midriff bare. She couldn’t wait to see the look on Daniel’s face when he saw it, and equally couldn’t wait until he could take it off of her. She felt a flush of heat through her body at the thought.

But when they reached the Market District, for the first time there was no Kylon there. She saw a couple of guardsmen, half-uniformed, chatting up a pair of women near one of the stalls, and watched as a pickpocket slyly relieved one of the men of his wallet. 

Judith glanced at Alistair. “He must be off-duty,” she said. “Let’s mingle in the Market, see what there is to hear.”

They split up, then, the mabari sticking close to Judith while Alistair and Leliana went off in different directions. Judith watched them go, noting how they didn’t even look at each other before splitting up, wishing there was something she could do. The news that Alistair, bastard son of King Maric, was to be put forward as a candidate for the throne had thrust a wedge between her friends—as an Orlesian, by training and perception if not by birth, it would be difficult, if not impossible, to get Ferelden to accept Leliana as queen. Not to mention her history as a spy and mercenary, which would be sure to be brought out. Alistair wasn’t handling it well—nothing in his life had taught him how to let a woman down gently—and Leliana, who with her experience might have been expected to understand, was completely miserable. Judith hoped the two of them could work something out. She hated seeing her friends in pain.

She sighed, turning back to a stall where a live bear was being held in a cage. An Antivan-accented voice purred in her ear. “Ah, my lady enjoys the sight of the large animal?” 

Judith was used to the constant sexual innuendos put forth by Zev, her own Antivan companion. “Not particularly,” she said.

“Perhaps,” the voice lilted, “the lady would like to hear about a different type of caged animal? One with … two legs?”

She turned to look at him. She’d seen him in the marketplace before—he was a tall man, mostly bald. “Perhaps,” she said cautiously, wondering what he was getting at.

“The lady is not unknown to Ignacio,” he said smoothly, taking her arm and leading her to another section of the stall, pretending to point out a beautifully tooled pair of boots. “I know, for example, that the lady is a Grey Warden, traveling with an elf she cannot entirely trust.”

“I see,” she said. So the man was a Crow, was he? Had the Crows recaptured Zev? she thought in alarm. “This elf is not fond of cages.”

Ignacio chuckled. “No, he is not,” he agreed. “But it is not he of whom I speak. Instead, it is of the man who watches.”

‘The man who watches’? Oh, Maker, does he mean Daniel? she thought in sudden panic. “Did this man do something?”

“It is hard to tell. One evening he paid a call to a certain jewel and the next he was gone.”

‘Jewel’? The Pearl! “You spoke of a cage. Was he taken?”

“He has not been seen again since that morning. One assumes.” 

“That was a week ago!”

Ignacio nodded solemnly.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“It is not good for business, to have him gone. Crime rises, ignored and abetted.”

“Where is he?”

Shrugging, Ignacio said, “That, I do not know. But I know the crest on the carriage he got into, as well as I know … this city.”

The Arl of Denerim? Was that why Howe had looked at her with such triumph, because he had Daniel? Fear welled up in her, but she tried to control it. Looking at Ignacio, she asked, “If someone were to … go looking for this cage, would there be assistance? A bird flying high above the city might be able to find out many things.”

“Assistance?” Ignacio looked amused. “That is not our standard method of operation. If the Grey Warden can gather further information, the assistance could be … considered.”

It was as much as she was going to get. She thanked him for the information and moved away, trying to disguise how she was trembling. Daniel imprisoned? And because of her, she thought. It must be. She should never have left him behind—she should have insisted he come with her. 

Judith felt electricity crackling at her fingertips and wished for a bandit to hit with it. Drawing a deep, shuddering breath, she went to find Alistair and Leliana. They were going after Arl Howe.


	15. Bait

Leliana was standing in front of an armorers’ stall, staring at the plate and dragonbone as though they were fascinating. She turned to Judith, as the mage came up to her, her eyes widening as she saw the distress in Judith’s face. “What is it?” she asked.

“Daniel,” Judith said. “The Crows think he was captured and imprisoned by Arl Howe the day we left. We have to do something!” she said urgently.

Leliana took her friend by the arm. “Let us go, then,” she said. 

Sam padded along beside them as they made their way through the marketplace. They found Alistair near a stall selling silks and exotic perfumes. His eyes caught Leliana’s as the two women approached, and the looks on her friends’ faces made Judith wish she could send them off to be together and work out their troubles. But there was no time for that now. “Alistair,” she said, gripping his arm. “Daniel’s been captured by Arl Howe.”

“What? Are you sure?”

“That’s what I’ve been told by the Crows, anyway, and I don’t know what reason they’d have to lie,” she said. “Which doesn’t mean there isn’t one.” She was calming a bit now. Alistair’s skepticism made her realize that she was leaping a bit too quickly to believe this probable Crow’s suggestions, without any corroborating evidence other than the chaos in the marketplace. Sam had stopped three pickpockets from reaching for her purse already. “Let’s go to the Pearl,” she said. “If Daniel’s really disappeared, Sanga will know.”

At the Pearl, things seemed pretty much as usual. Sanga had a pretty fearsome set of enforcers of her own to keep the lawlessness under control. They made their way through the taproom to the proprietress. Sanga’s eyes widened when she saw the Grey Warden and her companions, and she stepped back behind the bar, where they could talk more or less privately.

“I take it you are here to ask about your … friend?” Sanga asked delicately.

“I am.” 

“It has taken you long enough,” said Sanga, raising an eyebrow.

“I only just returned to Denerim this morning. Has he really been gone since … the last time I was here?”

Sanga nodded slowly. “If you wish further information,” she said quietly, leaning forward, “I would try this.” She slid a small room key across the counter, and Judith’s hand closed over it swiftly. 

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“He is a good man and does not deserve what will be happening to him. I have heard stories, and they are not … pretty,” Sanga said with great concern.

Judith didn’t bother to stay and ask. It wouldn’t help to know the details, and time was of the essence.

She and Alistair and Leliana climbed the stairs to room 114, the number on the key Sanga had given them. The room was clearly occupied—they could hear the sounds of two people copulating through the door. 

Unconcerned, Judith turned the key quietly in the lock, and stood back so Alistair could do the honors. He put all his considerable frustration behind the kick he aimed at the door, and was very satisfied with the loud bang as it flew open. A small elven whore looked up in shock as the door crashed into the wall, and under her arm Judith spied a face she’d seen before. It was the rat-faced man who had attacked her on her first date with Daniel. She nodded to the whore, who grabbed her clothes and scuttled from the room.

The rat-faced man started to get off the bed as well, but Judith was having none of it. She raised her staff, spoke a word, and electricity crackled through him as he cried out.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, sweetness dripping from her tone. “I must have said the wrong word by accident. That was supposed to be a cold spell. The lightning hurts, doesn’t it?”

The rat-faced man glared at her. “Not very civil of you, breakin’ in on a man during his sport. I di’n’t do that to you.”

“But you were watching, weren’t you?”

“’Course. My job and all,” he said, looking remarkably relaxed for a man sitting naked in a room full of armed warriors. Alistair drew his sword to make that point a bit more obvious. Rat-face shifted a bit so that his family jewels were covered, but didn’t look overly concerned. “You folks ain’t foolin’ me none. You’re not the type to really torture someone.” He reached for a shirt, pulling it on over his head.

“Where is he?” Judith said, feeling the electricity form on her fingertips again, and holding it back with an effort. Leliana drew a dagger, standing near the door in case the man made a break for it.

“Lost somethin’, have you?” Rat-face chuckled. “Name’s Dietrich. In the employ of the Arl of Denerim.”

“I don’t care who you are or who you work for. Where is he?” Judith said, and the lightning arced from her fingers, burning a small hole in his shirt.

“Hey, now, that’s my best one!” Dietrich said. “No need for all that. See, I was comin’ to find ya, soon as I took care of some … pressin’ needs. You know what I mean,” he said, leering at Judith.

“Coming to find me? What do you mean?”

“The Arl sent me to look for ya, wanted ya to know he’s got yer boy. Seems y’already figured it out, though. The Arl ain’t gonna like that. Don’t wanna tell me how you knew, do ya?”

“Get to the point,” Judith said, her brain racing. If the Arl wanted her to know he had Daniel … then Daniel must be bait. How she wished she hadn’t left him here. “You have a message for me?”

“Sure do. The Arl, he says, if ya wanna see yer boy again, you come to his estate tomorrow night. Alone.”

“Of course.” Judith took a deep breath, then she contemptuously tossed Dietrich his pants. “Get dressed, then tell your master I’ll be there.” She ignored the shocked hisses of Alistair and Leliana’s breath. 

As he scuttled toward the door, Dietrich ogled her exposed midsection. “Always heard mages were hot for it,” he said.

Judith stepped in front of him, stopping him, looking down into his muddy brown eyes. “If I ever set eyes on you again, you will be a permanent ice sculpture bobbing in Denerim Harbor while the ships knock you about like a football. And if the Arl is the kind of person I think he is,” she whispered menacingly, “he won’t give a damn. Think of that.” She moved away, letting him past, watching as he rushed from the room and clattered down the stairs.


	16. Spell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild physical and psychological torture this chapter.

Kylon opened his eyes, groaning. His mouth was dry, his muscles screamed in pain, and all he wanted was a nice refreshing drink of water. It was all he could think about, the cool, soothing liquid washing down his throat, maybe some over his back and shoulders, cleaning off the dried blood and sweat … 

“He wakes,” said an oily voice that was vaguely familiar. Slowly Kylon’s head began to clear and he remembered where he was. Howe’s dungeons, although how many days he’d been here he could no longer figure out. Howe had come in a few times, mostly to torment him and ask him, almost as an afterthought, about Judith’s whereabouts and her plans for when she returned to Denerim. He seemed disappointed by Kylon’s lack of knowledge. Kylon hadn’t even known that Alistair was the son of King Maric, much less that he was a candidate for the throne. 

“Sergeant, how nice of you to rejoin us,” Howe said, but there was impatience in his voice. “I don’t believe we have finished our conversation yet.”

“We— We haven’t?” Kylon managed. “Might be … better with some water.”

“Oh, are you thirsty?” Howe asked, as if the thought hadn’t occurred to him. “Here’s an idea—you tell me when she’s coming back, and I’ll see if I can get you some water.” He gripped Kylon’s side where a particularly painful wound festered, and Kylon couldn’t help crying out. 

“Don’t … know,” he said with difficulty. “She didn’t … tell me.”

“So you say. But … well, I have to tell you, Sergeant, that I don’t think you’re being entirely truthful.” Howe looked sorrowful. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to try something new.”

Kylon wondered idly if it would be painful, whatever this new thing was, but mostly he just hoped it would end in him getting a drink of water. He was too exhausted and spent to care too much. Howe walked across the room, and from the corner of his eye Kylon could see Howe talking to someone. Then he felt a strange energy filling the room, making his head swim. Blinking rapidly, he tried to see through the fog that had suddenly filled the room.

He smelled her before he saw her, that familiar undertone scent that was like the air after a thunderstorm. She’d said it was the scent of lyrium. But there was something else missing, something that was just her. His brain reached out, trying to think, but the effort was too much, and she was coming to him through the fog and smiling at him.

“Oh, it’s you! I was … beginning to think … you were never coming,” he gasped, so happy to see her. It was unbelievable that she was here at last, her blue eyes softly shining on him, like something out of a dream. 

“There you are,” she said softly. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

Soft, cool hands on his face, a nice soothing glass of water held up to allow him to drink. 

“What have you been doing here?” she asked, laughing a little. “Why didn’t you just tell him where I went?”

“Y— You didn’t … Did you tell me?” He was confused now.

“Of course,” she said, but her eyes were strange suddenly. “I must have. We love each other, don’t we?”

“You never said that before.” His voice was stronger. This he was sure of—he’d have remembered if she’d ever said that.

“Haven’t I?” She looked surprised. “But you’re not surprised to hear it, are you?”

“I was hoping,” he said, feeling her soft arms around his neck. Whatever doubt had been niggling at the back of his mind vanished at her touch.

Her mouth was very close to him now, her breath over his cheek as she whispered in his ear, “All you have to do is tell the Arl when I’m planning to come back … and then we can be together.”

“But … you’re here,” he said, confused. Something was wrong again … something about the arms around his neck. Something missing? He couldn’t put his finger on it—everything went fuzzy when he tried. 

Suddenly there was a loud clapping noise, and the fog cleared from the air. Arl Howe was glaring at a woman standing in front of Kylon, a woman who very definitely wasn’t Judith. A blood mage, Kylon realized with horror, feeling the dirty fingers of   
the spell slithering out his ears. He retched onto the floor, the intrusion turning his stomach.

When he was able to catch his breath again, Arl Howe was listening impatiently to a messenger who had come into the room. The messenger was speaking rapidly, clearly wanting out of the torture chamber as soon as possible. Howe frowned, and he came to stand in front of Kylon. “I see you really didn’t know anything,” he said. “Makes me wonder how useful you really are, if she doesn’t tell you the simplest things. Now that she’s back, will she care enough to come for you?” he said, the question not rhetorical. “Either way, there won’t be much of you left for her to find.” He walked out, leaving Kylon hanging in his chains feeling betrayed by his own mind and, however unfairly, by Judith. What was taking her so long?


	17. Allies

As the afternoon sun began to set, sending red light across the tops of the buildings of Denerim, Judith presented herself at the estate of the Arl of Denerim. She had to push her way through crowds of angry citizens protesting Howe’s lax administration of the Arling to get to the front doors. She was clearly expected, however, because the gates opened for her instantly.

Judith was shown into a handsomely appointed great room where a fire crackled merrily. Arl Howe came toward her, rubbing his hands together gleefully. “My dear, I cannot believe you actually came. How brave and daring and—foolish of you.”

Judith felt the sickening sensation of mana drain, and saw a templar standing in the shadows. She had expected something of the kind, but she still had to take a deep breath before speaking. “What do you want?” she asked.

Howe’s face crumpled. “How disappointingly obvious. Just once, I’d like someone to ask something original.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” Judith said. “But you know what I want. I don’t know what you could possibly be after.”

“I do know what you want, and he’s well worth coming after, isn’t he?” Howe giggled disturbingly. “Such a fine figure of a man.”

Judith shivered in disgust and Howe smirked at her. “My dear, what did you think would happen when you went off to stir up trouble and left such a … tantalizing tidbit behind you?”

Automatically her hand curled, the ball of fire ready to form, but she had forgotten the mana drain. Howe laughed outright at that. “The poor little mage, all her firepower taken away.”

“Really,” Judith said, irritated, “what is it that you want? We could stand here all night with you taunting me, but what good is it?”

“Well, it’s amusing,” Howe said, as if the answer was obvious. “And there just isn’t enough time for amusement during a Blight, don’t you think?” He looked at her, a nasty smile slowly spreading across his face. “Perhaps you don’t. You seem to have found time for quite a bit of … amusement.”

“Not nearly enough.” Judith bit the words off. “Killing you might make up for it.” 

“Killing? My dear Warden, you’re so very blunt. I’d have expected a mage to have more … finesse. And here you are as tediously forthright a warrior as, well, your fellow Grey Warden, young Alistair himself, must be.”

“What do you know of him?” In the back of the room, behind Howe, a shadow shifted. Judith noted it without moving her eyes off Howe’s face.

“Only what we are all coming to discover, that the young man is the bastard son of King Maric and is being put forward to push that lovely lady, Queen Anora, off her throne. Surely there were more subtle, more interesting ways to proceed.”

“Nowhere near as efficient,” she said. She was getting quite tired of the dancing and the runaround. Perhaps the Arl was right, her style was much more that of the warrior. Maybe she should have let Zev conduct this fencing match. Of course, Alistair would already have lost his cool and ripped Howe’s smirking lips off. 

Howe rolled his eyes. “Efficient,” he scoffed. “Besides, my dear, you’re acting as if you have plans. Somewhere to go.” All the humor drained from his face. “When we both know you’re staying right here, as long as you entertain me.”

“Are you going to let Daniel go?”

“You must be joking,” Howe said, laughing. 

Judith watched a spider skitter across the floor. There was a faint smile in her eyes as she looked at Howe. “I would strongly suggest that you do so.”

“You would? You are going to be more amusing than I had expected,” Howe said. “You’re a mage, in the same room with a templar who has already drained your mana; you’re a woman alone in a building full of people paid to do what I say. What is the point of making empty threats?”

“Who says they’re empty?” Judith asked. She flipped her cloak aside, revealing Spellweaver and pulling the sword from its scabbard. 

“My dear,” Howe said patronizingly. “It’s a very pretty sword, but it doesn’t help to just wave it around.”

Judith reached forward with the blade, neatly slicing through Howe’s belt without damaging the costly fabric below. His eyes widened. “You see, ser,” she said, “I’m not just a mage, I’m an arcane warrior, not dependent on mana to fight.” 

At the same time, a door opened near the templar. A giant man in Arl Howe’s livery stepped through the door and ran the templar through all in one motion. He closed the door behind him and took off his helmet, revealing the face of Judith’s qunari companion, Sten. On the other side of the room, a green glow surrounded the spider and it grew to become Morrigan, the apostate mage. And as Howe watched the change in the room’s atmosphere with shock, a slender dagger liberally coated with poison flew through the air, catching him in the back of the shoulder, and the Antivan assassin Zevran stepped out of the shadows. 

Judith grinned at the stunned expression on Howe’s face. “And as you can see, I am hardly a woman alone. I have many allies you’ve never dreamed of.” She reached out with the tip of Spellweaver and poked it into the hollow of Howe’s throat, just enough. “Now, I’ll ask you again. Where is he?”


	18. Howe

Howe stood stockstill, feeling the point of Judith’s blade digging into his throat. Then he broke out in a chuckle. “My dear, if I had known you were going to be this enjoyable, I would have had you brought to me long ago.” He was rubbing his left shoulder, meanwhile, clearly feeling the effects of Zev’s poisoned dagger.

“Kadan,” Sten said urgently.

The Arl took advantage of Judith’s momentary distraction, as she turned to look at Sten. Howe brought his fingers to his lips, whistling shrilly. Through the doors poured a number of his troops. 

Sten looked at her with his usual impassiveness. “Troops on their way, Kadan.”

“Thank you, Sten,” Judith said. “Timely warning.”

He shrugged. 

Judith and her team were forced into the middle of the room, looking around for weaknesses in the foes facing them. Zev quietly handed Judith a lyrium potion, and she downed it, feeling the strength and power flooding back through her limbs. Taking a lyrium potion always gave her a greater understanding of why mages went bad—that much raw power fueling her body could be intoxicating. She avoided potions as much as possible for that reason. She didn’t like it. But right now, she dug into that power, channeling a blizzard spell and sending it into the midst of Howe’s troops. They stumbled and fell in the cold winds, slipping on the ice that was forming on the floor.

“Well played, my dear,” Howe hissed softly, the amusement gone from his voice and face now. Movements slowed by the poison, he clumsily caught a blade that was tossed to him by one of his men, striking at Judith. She jumped back easily. 

Sten had moved into the midst of the blizzard, his big body impervious to the winds, and was attacking right and left with his massive sword. Morrigan was casting rapidly, taking out one soldier at a time. 

Zev had his Antivan longbow out and an arrow sped across the room, catching a Templar just in the spot where his helmet met his armor. The Templar gurgled and fell back.

Judith turned to Howe, Spellweaver raised.

“You know you’re too late to save him, don’t you?” Howe said, his voice low and dangerous. “He’s been nearly as entertaining as you would have been … his faith in you was so touching.” 

She refused to listen. Nothing Howe said could be believed anyway. 

“What do you want to kill me for? Other than revenge for your boyfriend?” he asked.

“I’m sure we’ll find all sorts of nasty little secrets once we go through your dungeons,” she grunted, catching his sword on hers and pushing him back. She took advantage of the moment’s break to cast an arcane bolt at him. 

Many of Howe’s soldiers were down now, and Sten and Zev were closing in on the few remaining. Howe looked at the carnage calculatingly. “Perhaps,” he said, “we could work something out.”

Judith thrust forward with her sword, noting that Howe had now completely lost the use of his left arm as Zev’s poison worked through his system. “The only thing we’re working out,” she said, “is how long it takes me to kill you.” 

“What if you kill me and you can’t find him?” Howe panted. 

“I don’t think you’re clever enough to hide him that well,” Judith said breathlessly. She struck forward and caught him in the stomach, twisting the blade.

Howe stared down in shock, watching the blood spurt from his body. He looked back up at her, his eyes wide. “Good show,” he said. He looked back down again, his eyes beginning to glaze over. “Oh, very good …”

Judith pulled Spellweaver from the dead Howe’s body, looking around the room. Sten and Morrigan were looting soldier corpses, and Zev was retrieving and cleaning his poisoned dagger. 

From the back of the room, a darkened corner, came the sound of applause. Ignacio emerged from behind a large tapestry. “I knew you would not need our assistance,” he said as he came up to her. “Most well done,” he murmured. “The lady is quite formidable. But then, we knew that.” He spared a grin in Zev’s direction.

“Does that mean you won’t be coming after me, to fulfill that contract?” 

“But of course not! We Crows have an appreciation for artistry.” Ignacio looked sheepish for a moment. “Besides, we are, ahem, in your debt. You see,” he said, looking down at Howe’s body, “we had a contract for this man, and had thus far not managed to complete it.” 

“So,” Judith said slowly, “you owe me.”

“That we do. Er, is it possible you would accept something other than coin? I have a rather pressing debt that this contract will cover nicely.” Ignacio looked even more sheepish.

“As a matter of fact, there is something. As you know, my treasured companion Zevran Arainai is a former member of your organization.”

“Indeed.”

“I would like the Crows to formally release him from their service, with assurance that no one from the organization will be coming after him.” Next to her, Zev fought to keep his jaw from dropping. A favor from the Crows at her feet, and she asked for his freedom? 

“My lady, surely you do not believe I have the authority to give that assurance.”

Judith smiled. “Is it really my concern if you do? Because I know where you operate from. If you, as you say, owe me for performing this task for you, I want your personal guarantee that you will protect Zev—and the rest of my companions, incidentally—and if something happens to one of them, I will know how to find you.”

Ignacio bowed, a smile twitching at the corner of his lips. “May I say that the lady would make an excellent assassin?”

“I’ll keep that in mind if I find Blight-ending becoming tiresome,” Judith said, grinning. 

Ignacio turned and left. Zev stared after him, then looked back at Judith. He started to say something, but she held up a hand. “Save it for camp, please, Zev. We need to get to the dungeons. Now.” Judith dug into Howe’s pockets, triumphantly removing a large brass key. 

“Let’s go,” she said to her team, worrying despite herself whether Howe might have been telling the truth. If Daniel was … If she was too late … She set her jaw, determined not to think like that, and led the way.


	19. Dungeons

They stood in the midst of the carnage of Arl Howe’s great room. Turning to Sten, Judith asked, “Did you have any luck determining where we might find prisoners?”

“There are extensive dungeons in the basement,” he said gravely. “But it seems the most unusual prisoners are kept near the Arl’s sleeping chambers.” 

Zev grinned. “In case the Arl had difficulty sleeping, something to amuse himself with? I approve.”

“Zev,” Judith said sharply, and the Antivan looked somewhat abashed.

They left the great hall, and were almost immediately challenged by a group of the Arl’s men. “Where do you think you’re going?” the leader asked.

Judith glared at him. “Arl Howe is dead and we intend to clean out the mess he’s made here. You and your men are free to attack us and die, as he did; to help us remove all traces of his twisted rule from this castle; or to get lost. I don’t care which you choose, but since I’m in a hurry, you’re going to need to decide. Now.” To make her point crystal clear, she rolled a small ball of fire around her fingers.

There was some muttering amongst the group, then the leader stepped aside. “Suit yourself, Warden. I’m in no hurry to be turned into a toad for the likes of Howe.”

Judith nodded at the men as she and her team moved past them. “A wise decision, men.”

Sten led the way to Arl Howe’s bedroom. Judith applied the brass key to a door in the corner of the room. It turned easily, and she led the party down a narrow corridor. 

As they rounded a corner, a guard who had been snoozing on a chair jumped up, sending the chair clattering across the floor. “Hey! Who are you?” he said, but before Judith could answer, a bare arm shot out of a cell, dragging the guard close to the bars. For a moment, watching the guard struggle, Judith thought it might be Daniel in the cell, but something was strange. After a moment’s concentration, she realized that the man in the cell must be a Grey Warden. She could feel it. 

The arm removed a bunch of keys from the guard’s belt, unlocking the cell. The guard disappeared, and a moment later, a long-haired man stepped out, wearing the guard’s armor. He bowed, smiling crookedly. His gaze traveled over the party members. “I detect the presence of … a Sister in the Grey?” he said, his eyes widening slightly as they rested on Judith.

She bowed. “Judith Amell, formerly of the Circle Tower and now of the Grey Wardens.”

“I am Riordan. Of the Orlesian Grey Wardens.”

“How did you wind up here?”

“I came for dinner,” Riordan said in his lightly accented voice. “The Orlesian Wardens had been called for, to help stop the Blight, but we were turned back at the border. I was raised in Ferelden, so I know the country. I volunteered to come and see what had happened, accepted an invitation to dinner from the Arl of Denerim, and never got past the first glass of wine. And of a highly inferior vintage, as well.”

“Truly a shame,” Zev murmured behind Judith.

“Shush, Zev.” She looked back at Riordan. 

He looked at her, his eyes piercing. “Are you the only one left?”

“No. There’s Alistair as well. Do you know him?”

Riordan looked thoughtful. “I recall an Alistair. Almost painfully naïve.”

Sighing, Morrigan said, “That would be the one.”

Judith glared at her for a moment. “Alistair is at Arl Eamon Guerrin’s estate here in Denerim. If you’d like to go there, get some rest and healing after your ordeal?”

Riordan bowed. “Thank you, Sister. And you? What will you do?” 

“I have … business in the dungeons.” She swallowed painfully. “But apparently not this one.”

He motioned to another cell. “There is a hidden door to the basement dungeons, through there. I have seen the Arl go through it. May you find what you are looking for.”

“Thank you.” She walked into the cell, probing at the wall until she found a small outcropping and pressed on it. Slowly the back of the cell swung away, and she stepped through, looking back at her companions. “Are you coming?”

They descended into the dungeon levels. Most of the estate’s guards had already heard that Howe was dead, so the dungeons were all but deserted. There were cries from the various rooms, and Judith and the team searched through every one, splitting into pairs to cover the ground faster, freeing those they found within. 

Judith opened a door on the left, nearly choking on the stench of blood and decay that flooded out. She and Zev made short work of the three torturers who were either too dense or too devoted to their work to flee, and then she turned to the young man on the rack, loosening his bonds. 

“Th-Thank you,” he stammered, getting up with difficulty. Zev supported the young man, his face twisted into a nearly identical expression of pain, and Judith remembered some of the tales the assassin had told her of his training as an Antivan Crow. “Who are you?” the young man asked.

“I’m Judith, Grey Warden. Are you— Will you be all right?” She’d already cast several healing spells on him, and gently now reached to dab one of the worst wounds with a healing poultice.

“I think so. My name is Oswyn. I take it my father didn’t send you?” When she shook her head, he sighed. “He must not know I’ve been trapped down here. My father is Bann Sighard of the Dragon’s Peak Bannorn. I am sure he will reward you handsomely for rescuing me.”

“I need no reward for compassion,” Judith said softly. “Just—will your father stand with us against Loghain in the Landsmeet?”

“You can count on it,” Oswyn said savagely. He hobbled from the room slowly with Zev’s cloak wrapped around him. It allowed him to retain some of his dignity.

Judith smiled at the assassin. “I thought you were of the opinion that we’re all entirely too soft and filled with empathy.”

“Occasionally it is nice to try something a bit different,” Zev said, shrugging, but she could see the remembrance of pain in his brown eyes.

They met up with Morrigan and Sten in the corridor. The mage told them about a young elf named Soris, whom she had freed. The elf had invited Morrigan to bring her comrades to the Alienage, where they would all be feted for freeing him. “He was quite personable, for a young man locked in a dungeon,” Morrigan said with some surprise. Then she handed Judith a ring. “The Templar who gave me this … he was mad. Quite mad.” She shuddered. “He said to give this to his sister, Bann Alfstanna, and to ask her to pray for him.”

Judith accepted the ring, tucking it safely away in a small pocket inside her armor. She sighed heavily. “Where haven’t we looked?” she asked, not wanting to think that perhaps she’d been overconfident, and maybe Arl Howe had hidden him better than she’d expected.

“There is another corridor,” Morrigan said. “There is a locked gate across it, however.”

Judith brandished the key. “Lead me to it.”

The key turned easily in the lock of the gate, and they went through into the last corridor of the dungeons. It was nearly silent now that they had freed all those whose cries they had heard when they first came down.

The first two rooms along the corridor were empty, but the third one … Judith didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or vomit. He was on his knees, his arms pulled over his head by his chains, his head slumped forward, and he looked and smelled filthy. She immediately cast a healing spell, and then, disregarding the disgusting floor, she went down on her knees in front of him, her hands gently lifting his head. “Daniel?”

His eyes opened slowly, and he focused on her. He blinked several times, looking confused and a little alarmed. She hastily raised her arm to cast another healing spell. The silver bracelet caught the light, glinting, and Daniel’s face relaxed immediately, his brown eyes going back to her face. “It’s … it’s really you,” he said hoarsely.

“Yes,” she said, holding his face in her hands. “It’s really me.”


	20. Aftermath

Kylon hung in his chains. Arl Howe and all his minions had gone, leaving him there alone. He was too exhausted to care when they were coming back, so when he started hearing movement down the corridor he ignored it. But the footsteps moved closer, and despite himself his training kicked in. At least one set came from a very big person, and there were multiple smaller ones. He strained to hear voices. Female? Possibly. Maybe Howe was returning with more blood mages. Kylon shuddered, a wave of nausea washing through him. 

Then the door opened and he smelled it, that faint electric undertone, but over it the stronger scent, like a pine forest after a fresh snowfall. Or so he thought, never having seen a pine forest. He felt a coolness wash over him, reminiscent of the battle he’d fought next to her in that filthy back alley. And then two soft hands were lifting his face, and her voice was calling his name. 

Daniel blinked rapidly, trying to focus. He was afraid to trust it. The scent was right this time, the healing spell had been most convincing … but what if it wasn’t her? What if he fell for it again, told them … well, he didn’t know what he could tell them, but he didn’t want to be fooled again, to have his own mind turned against him.

One soft, cool hand left his face and he saw the glint of silver in the light as the hand was raised in the air. He felt the cooling healing wash over him again, and focused on her arm, on the silver bracelet etched with snowflakes. Now he looked at her again, seeing the blue eyes, the soft smile curving the pink lips. “It’s … it’s really you.” It seemed unbelievable.

“Yes,” she said, and her hands were on his face again, fingertips cool against his hot skin. “It’s really me.”

Judith cradled his head in her hands as Zev and Sten worked to get him free. She wished heartily that there had been some way to get Wynne in here. While Judith knew a few things about healing, she wasn’t a healer by nature—and while Daniel’s injuries didn’t seem life-threatening, they were extensive.

Daniel felt gentle hands at his fetters, felt the weight of the heavy chains removed, then felt himself lifted to his feet, groaning. They moved slowly out of the dungeons, one arm thrown over Judith’s shoulders, the other over those of an elf of some kind. “Wh-Who?” he managed, despite his mouth feeling dry as the very dust of Orzammar.

“Let’s get you out of here before we make the introductions, shall we?” Judith asked breathlessly.

“H— Howe?” 

“We have a carriage waiting. Oh!,” she said, realizing what he’d meant. “Howe’s dead. I ran him through.” Her voice was dark and vengeful.

“Good.” Daniel’s voice was getting stronger. They emerged from Howe’s estate, loading Daniel into a waiting carriage. 

Judith looked up at the driver. “Right on time,” she said. He nodded. Then she and the others climbed in and the carriage clattered across the cobblestones, Daniel wincing as it jounced. Judith couldn’t keep her hands off him, stroking his hair, touching his face or his arm, reassuring herself that he was really there. When he feebly tried to pull away, she assumed she’d touched a sore spot.

At Arl Eamon’s, they carried Daniel, who was now unconscious, to a bedroom that had been prepared for him. Wynne was waiting, and she shooed them all out of the room, including Judith.

As Judith stood outside the door, waiting to be allowed back in, Zev came up to her. 

“My dear Warden,” he said in his usual courtly fashion, “I wonder if I might speak with you. I know, my timing is not of the best, but …” He shrugged eloquently.

“What is it, Zev?”

“I feel that I must thank you. For your generosity with Ignacio. The Crows are very powerful. You could have asked for many things, but instead, it was my life you chose to spend your boon upon. I … am grateful.”

“We need you,” she said simply. “We can’t be dodging Crows all the time.” Her words were light, but her smile admitted it was more than that.

“I meant to ask you about that. Now that I am no longer a Crow, what is my place in this mission? Do you still intend to hold me to my oath?” 

“Of course not. Now that the Crows have released you, your oath no longer applies. But I would like you to stay, Zev. As a friend, and an ally.”

“Friend?” He looked doubtful. “It has been a long time since anyone described me as such—and meant it. But since you speak so generously, I will stay.”

“Zev? Thank you for your help today.”

“It was my pleasure.”

The door opened and Wynne poked her head out. “This young man needs his rest. As do you. Stop disturbing him and get some sleep.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

After a restless night’s sleep, Judith was up and raiding the kitchens at first light. She hadn’t eaten much the day before and her Grey Warden appetite clamored loudly.

Once she’d eaten, she went back to Daniel’s door, tapping lightly. Wynne opened it, one finger to her lips.

“He’s resting now,” the older mage murmured. “It was a long night, but he should heal well, given enough rest. He—“ Her eyes looked troubled, and she didn’t finish the sentence. 

“What is it?” Judith asked, but Wynne shook her head.

“Be gentle with him.”

Judith stared after the other mage, as Wynne made her way down the hall. Cryptic comments were unlike her. Usually if she had something to say, wild horses couldn’t keep her from sharing it. 

She took the seat next to the bed, watching Daniel as he slept. Now that it was over, now that he was safe, her hands trembled and she felt the panic she had swallowed as she fought to find and save him. This man had come to mean so much to her that she had put the Blight itself on hold to find him. She couldn’t lose him again.

After a while, his eyes opened, blinking to clear the sleep from his eyes. He saw her and smiled. “There you are.”

“Sorry it took me so long,” Judith said softly. She reached out with one hand to brush the hair off his forehead.

As she reached for him, that lyrium scent wafted over Daniel, and he flinched, catching her hand before it could touch him. Bile rose in his throat. For a moment, all he could think of was the power in that hand, and he shrank from it.

Then rationality returned, and he realized what he had done. Her blue eyes were wide with shock and hurt. “D-Daniel?” she asked, her voice quavering. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, releasing her hand. “He used a blood mage.” He shuddered. “I … For a moment— I’m sorry.”

The tears welled up in her blue eyes. “I see,” she said thickly. “I’ll go call Wynne. Let you get some rest.” She nearly overturned the chair in her haste, and he watched her helplessly as she all but ran from the room.


	21. Negotiation

Judith stumbled through the hallway, trying to reach her room before her tenuous hold on herself broke. Then, turning a corner, she cannoned into a tall figure.

“Hey, hey,” Alistair said, concerned, tilting her chin up to look at her. “What’s wrong?” 

His voice was so safe and familiar, the arms that went around her so comforting, that Judith couldn’t hold back any longer. She buried her face in his shoulder and the great, wracking sobs tore through her. Alistair held her, stroking her back, wisely refraining from speech. His eyes were far away, gazing over her shoulder.

At last the torrent of weeping eased, and Judith pulled away, swiping at her face. 

“You want to tell me what that was all about?” he asked gently.

“D-Daniel. He— He flinched. I tried to t-touch him and he flinched.” She sniffled, the tears threatening to overwhelm her again. “H-He said that Howe used a blood mage on him.” She paused, calming somewhat. “Which must have been horrible. But then he f-flinched. From me! As if I was … one of them. A m-maleficar!” The moment flashed before her eyes again, and she was overtaken by another spasm of weeping. Alistair held her tightly, his cheek resting against her hair. There was a certain amount of satisfaction in being able to comfort at least one hurting woman in the castle today. Leliana still refused to understand, and he had no idea how to make that whole mess better.

Finally Judith pulled back, rubbing her sleeve over her face. “Thank you,” she said.

“Feel any better?”

“No.” She took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. Grey Wardens. Ferelden. Eamon. Darkspawn, she thought. Civil war, Blight, Archdemon. Much more important than being rejected by some man. She hoped if she said it to herself enough, she’d believe it. “What were you up to, before you were so rudely interrupted?”

“Coming to look for you, actually,” Alistair said. “Anora’s here.” 

“Here?” Judith said, startled. “Why in Thedas is she here?”

Alistair shrugged. “I can’t imagine. You think maybe we could, I don’t know, ask her?”

“Solid plan. Let’s do it. But after I wash my face and make myself presentable.”

“Good idea,” he said, surveying her with a smirk.

She stuck her tongue out at him, grateful for his innate ability to let humor bubble to the surface at any occasion, and went to her room to freshen up and prepare to meet the monarch they were planning to dethrone.

Once she was presentable again, Judith went to Arl Eamon’s study. A willowy blond woman whose blue eyes were calculating behind a mask of prettiness stood up to meet her. 

“Ah,” said Eamon, rushing to stand between the two women. “Queen Anora, meet Grey Warden Judith Amell.”

The two women nodded at each other, sizing one another up like fighters in a duel. “Your Majesty,” Judith said. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“It has come to my attention that you broke into Arl Howe’s estate last night and killed him,” Anora said coolly. It was impossible to tell from her tone or expression how she felt about that.

“Well, we killed him, certainly, but I didn’t break in. I was invited. And perhaps it would be more accurate to say we executed him. What we found in his dungeons …” Judith shuddered. “Let’s just say killing was too good for him.”

Anora nodded, her eyes still on Judith’s face. Since Judith had come into the room, Anora hadn’t even glanced anywhere else. “I believe I can work with you,” Anora said. “Gentlemen, will you excuse us?”

Eamon and Alistair looked startled, but left the room as the queen had requested. When they were gone, Anora sank into the chair behind Eamon’s desk with a sigh of relief. “Well-meaning men, but what do they know?” she asked, her face relaxing. “Please sit,” she said, gesturing to the chair across from her.

Judith sat warily. 

“You’re wondering what I’m doing here,” Anora said. “My father’s daughter and all that. In truth, it’s simple.” She leaned forward. “I’m going to put my cards on the table. My father’s mania about Orlais is causing him to make foolish decisions. Eamon’s mania about the Theirin line seems likely to push me off the throne. Men and their obsessions.” She paused, studying Judith’s face. “I quite like being the queen, and I’m really very good at it. Cailan was the show—and the role suited him. He liked being all flashy. But I was the brains. Could I give that up to go off into exile somewhere while some fool bumbles around doing my job badly? I think not. So I came here to meet you, to see what I was dealing with.”

“Me?” Judith said, surprised.

“You are the leader, are you not? The Grey Warden? May I add, if I needed any proof that Alistair is not ready to be king, charming though he may be, the fact that you, the raw recruit, are at the forefront while he follows would be enough. It is you who will make the ultimate decisions at the Landsmeet.”

“And you want me to choose you.”

“Well, of course. But I recognize that it won’t be that simple. That’s why I’m here. To put it simply: What will it take to keep me on the throne, keep my father alive, and reconcile Eamon and Alistair so the country won’t be needlessly divided?”

“No pressure,” Judith said.

Anora smiled slightly. “There is very little time. I can offer you proof of things that are going on here in Denerim, proof that will sway the Landsmeet to your side peacefully.” She held up a hand as Judith was about to speak. “Trust me when I say I know more than your Sergeant does.”

“My Sergeant?” Judith’s eyebrows shot up.

The smile turned more than a bit smug. “I told you, I am very good at this. Denerim is my city. I know what happens within its walls.”

Judith studied the Queen with a new respect. “So I see.” She took a deep breath. “There’s one possibility for a peaceful resolution that I have been mulling over.”

“And that is?”

“You marry Alistair.” Judith thought sadly of Alistair and Leliana, but the decision had been made to make Alistair king. This was the best way to cement his reign and ensure peace in the nation. She hoped her friends would understand.

Anora nodded slowly. “Of course.” She leaned back in the chair. “Maric did breed some handsome young men. Taking him to bed wouldn’t be a hardship, I’ll say that. Oh, Maker—I just remembered he trained as a Templar. He’s not some blushing virgin, is he?”

“Not anymore,” Judith said, grinning.

Anora’s eyes widened. “Not your conquest, I hope? I wouldn’t want you hanging about the castle cuckolding me.”

Choking slightly, Judith shook her head. “No, no, no no. Not me. The whole mage thing, ex-Templar—it just wasn’t going to work. Besides, he was too young and inexperienced for me.”

“So it’s true, what they say about the mages in the Tower?” Anora raised an eyebrow. Judith merely smiled, and Anora grinned at her. “I like you. I think we’ll be able to work together quite well.” She sighed, closing her eyes. “Marry Alistair. Remain queen. But what of my father?”

“That I cannot promise,” Judith said, suddenly serious. “Perhaps I could overlook what Loghain did, but Alistair … In order for Alistair to agree to this alliance … well, Duncan was the only father he’d ever known, and the Grey Wardens the only family. The hurt and resentment run deep. I don’t know if he will be willing to spare Loghain.”

Anora nodded, her face sorrowful. “That doesn’t entirely surprise me. We will have to see what kind of convincing I can do.”

“It won’t be easy,” Judith warned. “Now, what can you tell me about the things going on in Denerim?”

“Start with the Alienage,” Anora said. “There’s some kind of mysterious plague there. The whole area has been quarantined, and no one knows what’s happening, but it’s obvious the elves are frightened and edgy.”

“That’s it? That’s what you know that Kylon doesn’t?”

Anora smiled. “I think you know better than that. But right now our alliance is tenuous. I don’t think I’m ready to trust you with everything.” She rose from behind the desk. “Clean out the Alienage, work on Alistair, and I will see you when that is done.”


	22. Lecture

After Anora had thrown him and Eamon out of the room, Alistair headed straight for the room where Kylon lay, knocking lightly at the door. Wynne opened it, looking weary. Alistair motioned her out into the hallway.

“Yes, Alistair?” Wynne asked impatiently.

“Do you know what happened this morning?”

“I’m afraid you’ll need to be a bit more specific, my boy. I’m good at figuring things out, but not quite that good.”

“Kylon. He flinched from her, compared her to a blood mage. All the things we’ve been through, I’ve never seen her so upset.”

Wynne grimaced. “I was afraid of something like that. He was mostly unconscious while I was healing him, but when he was awake, he didn’t want me to get too near him.”

“Why didn’t you warn her?”

“I tried, but I didn’t want to say too much. The things he babbled about while unconscious … I felt those things weren’t mine to share.”

Alistair studied her. “Personally, I’d have breached the confidence before I put her in a position to have her heart broken, but that’s just me.”

Sighing, Wynne said, “Young man, I hope I’m still around when you learn the world isn’t black and white. The aftershocks will be felt throughout Thedas, no doubt.”

“Hey!” Alistair glared at the mage. “Why don’t you take a break, I’ll sit with him for a little while.”

“Only if you promise to be nice.” Wynne raised her eyebrows, looking fiercer than the Revered Mother had when she caught him trying to steal Sister Althea’s birthday cake.

“Of course,” he said, all wide-eyed innocence. No one could resist that look—the Revered Mother had cut him a slice of that cake herself, he remembered smugly.

Wynne cast him a suspicious glance. “I’ll be back in an hour. I expect him to be in one piece.”

Alistair watched her walk down the hall, then went into Kylon’s bedroom. 

“Welcome to the sickroom,” Kylon said, eyeing Alistair warily.

“Just a changing of the guard, as it were,” Alistair said, taking the seat next to the bed. “You look as though you’re doing much better.”

“I feel much better.” There was a pause, and then Kylon asked, his cheeks reddening slightly, “Er, last night … were you an elf, or was that some kind of hallucination?”

“Me?” Alistair was confused for a moment. “Ah! That was Zevran. Antivan, ex-Crow, very shifty. But good when you want to sneak in somewhere.”

“That’s a relief. She once mentioned the team members she couldn’t bring to Denerim. I take it he was one of those.”

“Indeed,” Alistair said, his tone a bit cooler now that Judith had been brought up. He stretched his legs out, studying the man in the bed. “Speaking of her.”

“Yes?” Kylon was wary again. He knew this man had never trusted him, and hoped only that he could talk to Judith before Alistair found out about this morning. He didn’t think he was prepared for the thrashing the other man was likely to give him.

“She’s the closest thing to family I’ve ever had. I don’t think it would be overstating the case for me to say that I’d kill anyone who hurt her.” 

Alistair’s scowl spoke volumes. So much for him not finding out, Kylon thought. “I take it this is about this morning,” he said. Alistair nodded. “And somehow you think this is your concern?”

“You made her cry. I’ve never seen her cry, and you made her all … sobby. That makes it my concern.”

“Ah.” Kylon sighed, closing his eyes, cursing himself for hurting her. “I didn’t mean to. It’s just that … there’s that smell, you know? The lyrium? Judith has it, and the blood mage had it. And I smelled it earlier and—I just reacted without thinking. That’s all.”

“Do you know what she went through to find you? To reach you?”

“No. Do you know what I went through because Arl Howe wanted me to bring her to him and I refused?” Kylon’s brown eyes hardened as he took in the young man in front of him. 

“No,” Alistair conceded. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

“Is she all right?” Kylon asked quietly, after a moment.

“I don’t think so, no. She was pretty badly hurt. You know how mages are treated. Everyone holds them at arm’s length, no one really trusts them, people are always talking about being turned into toads. One of the reasons she was drawn to you was that you never treated her like that. Until now.”

“It’s … daunting, suddenly. All that power, at her fingertips.”

“It’s always been there,” Alistair said quietly.

“But I’d never felt so … intimately what could become of it if … ”

“Look, I know you’ve had this whole blissful walk-through-the-park tra-la-la kind of thing, the two of you, but I’ve seen her when it counts. I’ve seen her having to cut down abominations that once were her friends; I’ve seen her turn away from the power and money dangled before her; but most of all, I’ve seen her time and again going out of her way, putting herself in danger to save innocent people. She has bent under the weight of more pressure than any three men should be able to stand … but the only thing that has ever broken her is you.” Alistair stood up, looking down at the man in the bed. “If you don’t think you can get past what happened to you enough to trust her, break it off. Do it cleanly. But only a fool would look into her eyes and not see the goodness there. And I don’t think you’re a fool.” He paused at the door, looking back. “For what it’s worth, I started off with similar concerns. You know I trained as a Templar. But there has never been a moment that I’ve stood at her side in battle and not had complete confidence in her.”

The door closed quietly behind Alistair and Kylon buried his head in his hands.


	23. Revelations

Kylon didn’t know what to do. He wanted to be with her. But could he get past the fear that gripped him? The memory of what had been done to him was strong. Would he be able to move past that, to keep from recoiling at her touch and hurting her again? Would it be fair to her to ask her to put up with that, to wait while he got his head together, however long that took?

At length, it became clear that the only thing that could clear his jumbled mind was Judith. Seeing her would help him know what to do. Or so he hoped.

He got out of bed, feeling a bit weak and shaky, but otherwise all right. There was a stick thoughtfully propped next to the door, and he grasped it to help steady himself. Kylon was just reaching for the knob when the door opened. Wynne stepped in, looking surprised to see him up and about.

“You’re feeling up to this?” she asked, her silver eyebrows arched questioningly.

He nodded.

“I assume you are looking for Judith.” At his nod, she looked him over, her brown eyes sharp. “You will find her two doors down from the Arl’s study. She is going over strategy with Riordan.”

“Riordan?”

“Oh, I forgot. Riordan is a Grey Warden from Orlais. He was also in one of Rendon Howe’s dungeons.”

“I see.”

“Young man.”

“Daniel, please.”

“Daniel, then.” There was a faint smile on Wynne’s face, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “She appears strong, but is vulnerable in many ways. She also has many friends who do not wish to see her hurt.”

“Understood,” he said. Would the mabari stop to lecture him next? He sighed. Trying to start a relationship during a Blight was entirely too complicated.

Taking his stick, Kylon hobbled down the hallway. As he approached the room Wynne had indicated, he heard a murmur of voices, then her unmistakable musical laugh. So, not so devastated after all, he thought sourly, a stab of jealousy piercing him. He paused outside the door, listening.

“Judith,” Riordan was saying in his lightly accented voice, “the things you have accomplished here in Ferelden are astounding. And on your own, as well.” He paused. “May I ask, is there a reason that you lead while Alistair, who is your senior, follows?”

“Alistair was devastated by Ostagar. Nearly unable to function. And he was never trained to lead. He has always been a follower, always told that his job was to stay quiet and do as he was bidden. Those lessons take a long time to unlearn.”

“You are very generous.”

“I’ve traveled with him for a while—there’s been ample time to study him. And to teach, I have to add. He’s come a long way.”

“Will he be willing and able to take the throne?”

“I believe, with the right assistance, he’ll make a good ruler. His heart is with his people, certainly.”

“Your assistance?” Riordan asked.

“Anora’s. The easiest way to resolve the civil war and focus the nation entirely on the Blight—and gain the support of the entire Bannorn—is to have Alistair and Anora marry. I haven’t spoken to him about this yet. I’m counting on your discretion until I can do so.”

“Of course,” Riordan said. “And you? What will you do once the Blight is over?”

Judith laughed. “You’re very optimistic, both that we can end the Blight and that any of us will have a future afterward.”

Riordan’s tone darkened. “One of us will not.” 

“Oh, no,” Judith groaned. “More bad news? Seems the Wardens are just full of it.”

“Indeed.” 

“Out with it, then.”

Riordan took a breath. “If the Archdemon is killed by an ordinary person, the tainted essence merely seeks out the next darkspawn, creating another Archdemon. In order for the Archdemon to truly be defeated, a Grey Warden must kill it. The tainted essence of the Archdemon seeks out the taint in the Warden, and both are destroyed.”

There was a silence, then Judith’s voice came, steady and determined. “I’ll do it.”

Unable to tear himself away, Daniel heard her words and sucked in his breath. His brave girl. Of course she would. Then he heard Riordan again.

“Sister, you will not.”

“I am the leader of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden. It’s my duty,” she said, her voice rising.

“No, Judith,” Riordan said. “You understand, there are traditions. It is always the Warden who has been tainted the longest, the one closest to the Calling.” More gently, he added, “It would be foolish to waste someone so young when there is someone so much closer to the end. Someone like me. It is my duty.”

“I see. Very well, then. Seems ridiculous to fight over who gets to die, doesn’t it?”

“It does.” There was a pause. “May I ask a question?”

“I suppose that depends on what it is,” Judith answered, a bit hesitantly.

“You are not … personally interested in Alistair, are you?”

“Alistair?” she said in surprise. 

Riordan misunderstood. His voice lowered slightly. “It is not forbidden for fellow Wardens to grow close to one another. I am merely wondering if you would perhaps be available for … dinner?”

Judith hastily pushed her chair back. “No, I’m not involved with Alistair. But no, I’m not available.”

“I see,” Riordan said. “Well, it was worth the attempt.” 

“Perhaps in a different time, a different place,” Judith said.

“If your situation changes, my offer remains.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Judith said. “Er, will you excuse me?” She all but ran into him in her haste to get out of the room.

She stopped short as she came out into the hallway, finding Daniel standing there looking guilty. “How long have you been here?” she asked quietly.

“Some time,” he admitted. “I came looking for you.”

“Did you.” Judith looked at him, feeling nervous around him for the first time. “Any reason in particular?”

“I—want to talk to you.”

“All right.”

“Not in the hallway, please,” he said. 

She sighed, leading the way to her room. When they were both inside, she closed the door, turning to look at him. “Now, what did you want to say?”


	24. Enchanted

Kylon and Judith stood looking at each other for a long moment. “What is it that you wanted to say?” Judith asked.

“I …” Kylon looked at her. The smell of lyrium was sharp underneath the clean, piney scent that was just Judith, and he swallowed, trying to banish the memories. “This is very difficult.”

“Daniel?” It was a barely audible whisper. “Are you trying to say you can’t be with me anymore?”

He turned back around, his eyes pleading. “I don’t know!” he cried. “I want to be. Maker knows, I don’t know what I’d do if I couldn’t— If I didn’t … But I don’t know how long it will take until I stop feeling that woman’s fingers in my brain.” He shivered.

“I’m so sorry that happened to you. I wish I had been there sooner,” she said softly, hating to see him in such torment. She wanted to go to him, but was afraid he wouldn’t be able to stand her touch.

“Me, too,” he said with a weak chuckle. 

“If— If you don’t mind my asking, what did she do?”

“Made me think she was you.” He put his hands over his face. “It was all foggy, and it felt … wrong, somehow, and I couldn’t focus, but I wanted you so badly and I was so exhausted. And then she was done, and I could feel it in my head, feel the spell as it left.” A tremor wracked his body. “And she smelled like you, that lyrium smell. That’s the worst of it. I smell that, and then I think of the power you have, and … I know better, I do. I know you’re not like that.”

“I don’t even know how to do that kind of thing. I’m not a blood mage,” she said softly, torn between her horror on his behalf and her shock that anyone—that he—could think her capable of such magic.

“I know. Really. And I … you know how I feel about you.”

She wanted to hear him say the words, but this wasn’t the moment to push that, so she let it pass. 

“I want to be with you. Maker knows, I look at you and all I can think about is holding you, kissing you. But—I’m afraid. I don’t know how, or when, I’ll stop being afraid. So you see … it wouldn’t be fair of me to ask you to wait for me. Not when I don’t know how long it will take me to heal fully.”

“You don’t have to ask,” she said. “Don’t you know that? If you—feel that way, I can wait as long as it takes. I was hurt, this morning. And frightened, that maybe you could never stand to have me touch you again. Which might put a damper on our relationship. Or it might be quite good for me,” she said, grinning wickedly.

Daniel grinned as well. “There’s an idea,” he said, his eyes warming. He took a step toward her. “Are you sure? That you still want me?”

She held her hands out, not wanting to spook him again. “Of course I do. But I can’t stop being a mage, you know that. If that’s too much for you, I can understand.”

“I don’t want it to be. I want to try, Judith. Please can we try?”

“Yes. With all my heart, Daniel, yes.”

“I might still … sometimes … But I won’t mean to.”

“I know.” She stood, still, with her hands out, waiting for him to reach for her. And then his warm hands closed over her cool ones, pulling her toward him. Judith went into his arms eagerly, burying her face in the crook of his neck, breathing him in, holding on tightly. So many times since that night at the Pearl she had wondered if she’d ever be here again.

Daniel could feel his hands trembling, and his muscles tensed involuntarily. But she felt so good in his arms, and he had missed her so much. He took a deep breath, willing himself to relax. 

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. “Who is it?” Judith called out impatiently, although she had a good idea.

“Alistair.” 

“One moment,” Judith said softly to Daniel.

“Promise?”

She smiled. Then she opened the door, poking her head out. “Alistair, can you do me a favor?”

“Sure.” He raised an eyebrow, nodding his head toward the door. Judith grinned at him, and a broad smile crossed his face. “I didn’t think he was a fool.”

She wondered what he meant, but let it go for the moment. “Tell Zev I’ll need him in the morning. We’ve got work in the Alienage. Meet in the library, 9:00.”

“Got it.”

“Alistair, um … Meet me here a bit earlier. 8:30. No, 8:00. You know what, make it 7:30,” she said, thinking of all the things she needed to share with her fellow Grey Warden, and his probable reaction to them. “I need to talk to you.”

“Why not now?” 

She glared at him. 

“Oh. Right. Got it. In the morning, then.” He grinned at her. “Have a good night.”

Judith chuckled softly. Then she turned back into the room, closing the door and leaning against it. She smiled at Daniel. “Now, where were we?”

“Somewhere about here, if I remember correctly.” He reached out, pulling her back into his arms. 

“It’s a good start,” she said. “Got anything else in mind?” She held her breath, waiting to see what he would do.

“Well, this is a lot of armor you have on,” he said. His hands skimmed across her midriff, exposed by the Dalish-style armor she wore. “Not that I’m complaining. Every time I see you your armor gets briefer.”

“But more powerful. Strange how that works,” she said breathlessly. 

“Enchanted?” he asked, equally breathless. Her skin was beautifully soft beneath his hands. 

“Enchanted,” she said. Her hands reached around his back, and she pressed closer while he searched for the buckle on the skirt of her armor. It came free, and the skirt dropped to her feet, leaving her standing in her smallclothes. He stepped back, and she reached up behind the top of her armor, unfastening it and dropping armor and padding to the floor. She wore nothing underneath it, and he gasped at the sight. 

“You are even more beautiful than I remembered,” he said. 

Judith reached toward him, but he caught her hands. At their touch, he shivered with an undefinable mix of excitement and apprehension. “My turn this time. Better … for me. And you deserve it.”

Gently, he led her toward the bed. She sat down, and he reached behind her head, undoing the pins that held her blond hair, letting it fall softly around her shoulders. Then he knelt before her, cupping her face in his hands, pulling it down toward his. Their mouths met, softly at first, and then with more fervor. Slowly he pushed her backward. He took her hands in his, placing them above her head. “Don’t move,” he whispered huskily.

It was hard to do, keeping her hands still as he touched her, but she knew he needed her to. So she clasped her wrists as he sat on the bed beside her, one hand trailing down over her body, every texture and every change in her breathing sending fire shooting through his veins. He removed his own clothing with the other hand, awkwardly, not losing contact with her for a moment.

Closing her eyes, Judith savored his touch, pressing up against his hand wherever it traveled. Both his hands slid to her hips, and she arched up, allowing him to slide her smallclothes down over her legs. He removed her boots, as well, leaving her lying there naked except for the bracelet he had given her. 

Then his mouth followed the path his hand had taken, oh so slowly, tasting all the subtle differences from one part of her body to the next, electrified by the little gasps and sighs she made. Daniel knelt between her legs, parting and lifting them, bending to taste the most intimate part of her. Judith gave a cry, writhing against his mouth, her hands clenching together against her need to touch him. He held her tightly until he felt her spasm against him, calling out his name.

As her hips returned to the bed and her breathing slowed, he looked at her, thinking he’d never seen anyone so beautiful in his life. 

“Daniel? Can I— Can I touch you now?”

He took the hand she had lifted to his face, sandwiching it between both of his. He kissed the tips of her fingers, tightening his jaw against the memories that came to him unbidden, breathing through his mouth so he wouldn’t smell the lyrium. “Carefully,” he said, letting her hand go. She reached out, tracing his jaw with one finger, as he held his breath, her touch sending fire and ice mingling together through him. Slowly her hand slid down his neck and to his shoulder. She pulled at him. Daniel followed willingly, lying between her legs as she pushed herself against his length. “Are you ready?”

“You need to ask?” she whispered. She threw her head back, moaning, as he filled her, beginning to move. He took it slowly, both of them savoring every thrust, every small sound, every hurried kiss, until the climax rushed through them. First hers, then his, and they lay together, panting, their heartbeats returning to normal.

Eventually, he reached down and pulled the covers up over them, cradling her in his arms. She cuddled closer, sighing contentedly. “I’m never leaving you again,” she said. “You get into entirely too much trouble without me.”


	25. Strategically

Daniel and Judith were so comfortable, sleeping in each other’s arms at last, that the knock on the door in the morning came before they awoke. Daniel jumped at the sound, and Judith woke with a start from her first dreamless sleep in a long time. 

“Are you all right?” she asked groggily.

He nodded, his heart pounding, wondering how long it would be until sudden noises stopped making him jump out of his skin.

“Who is it?” Judith called out. 

“Alistair.” 

“Damn Chantry training. He’s always punctual,” she groaned, climbing out of bed. “I hope you brought breakfast,” she called to Alistair through the door.

“Am I a Grey Warden, or not?” he said. “Of course I brought breakfast. And it’s heavy, so if you don’t mind …”

Judith hastily put on her mage robes, being the easiest and not requiring underwear. Daniel chuckled as he watched the process. “I’ll never be able to look at mages the same way again,” he said.

“It’ll be a more accurate picture, I suspect,” Judith said, grinning. Daniel pulled on his pants, but didn’t bother with the shirt. “That’s a good look for you,” she said, her eyes resting on his bare chest hungrily. 

“Later,” he said, his eyes darkening with promise. It was so natural being together this way, both of them felt momentarily free of the stresses of the Blight. Daniel crossed the room, opening the door for Alistair.

“Thanks a lot,” Alistair said. “What took you so long?” He looked at the scene in front of him—clothes strewn everywhere, bedcovers a tangled mess, half-dressed couple who had clearly just gotten out of bed—and thought of Leliana. He swallowed uncomfortably. “Never mind. I don’t want the details.”

“Wasn’t going to share them anyway,” Judith grinned. She shoved a chunk of cheese into her mouth. 

“Er, should I be in here for this?” Daniel asked. “Grey Warden secrets and things.”

Judith looked at him. “You know, most of it you’ll either have to know because you’re with me, or you already know because you eavesdropped on my conversation with Riordan.”

“I told you before, it can be a valuable tool,” he said unapologetically. “Information gathering is key.”  
Thinking of Alistair’s probable reaction to her discussion with Anora, Judith thought he might not want to have an audience for the revelation. “This might be better off being a private conversation, after all,” she said to Daniel. “Would you mind?”

“Not at all,” he said. After a moment’s search, he found his shirt, shrugging into it. He gave Judith a brief kiss on the cheek. “See you later?”

“We’ll be leaving for the Alienage at 9. I’ll need you to come along, since you know it better than the rest of us.”

Daniel nodded, and he and Judith stood grinning foolishly at each other for a moment.

“If the two of you don’t mind,” Alistair said testily, “time is passing rather quickly while I wait here for whatever bad news is sure to be coming.”

Judith started guiltily. “I’m sorry, Alistair, you’re right.” She looked apologetically at Daniel.

“I’m off, then,” he said, snagging an apple off the breakfast tray.

The door closed behind Daniel and there was a silence. 

“Everything seems to have worked out,” Alistair offered.

“Mostly. I think it’ll be a while before he’s fully recovered.” Judith tore into a strip of bacon.

“Understandable.” He sat heavily in a chair, sighing. “You might as well hit me with it.”

Judith rubbed a hand over her face. “Where to start?” she groaned. “All right, the Grey Warden part first. According to Riordan, a Grey Warden has to kill the Archdemon. Otherwise, the tainted essence goes into the nearest darkspawn, and the Blight just keeps on going.”

“Well, we certainly wouldn’t want that. And the Grey Warden?”

“The Grey Warden’s tainted essence absorbs the taint from the Archdemon, and both are destroyed.”

“I’ll do it,” Alistair said without hesitation.

“No, you won’t.” Judith looked at him severely. “Firstly, because Riordan will do it.” She held up a hand to forestall Alistair’s protest. “Traditionally, the Grey Warden closest to their Calling is chosen. Riordan said it would be a shame to waste someone with so many years ahead as we have.” She stared straight into Alistair’s eyes. “And let me make this clear: If Riordan is killed and can’t kill the Archdemon, I will do it. You are going to be King of Ferelden, and I am the Warden Commander here. It’s my duty to perform this task if Riordan can’t, and yours to live and rule this kingdom. There will be no last-minute grandstands. Clear?”

Alistair nodded sullenly. It was obvious he still wanted to argue, but there was no room for that. Not right now. Of course, he’d want to sacrifice himself even more when she told him about Anora, Judith thought.

“Is there anything else?” Alistair asked, bringing her back to herself.

“Of course. And it’s … you’re not going to like it.”

“That’s a surprise,” Alistair said. “Because I’ve been so thrilled with all the events leading up to this.” 

A smile drifted across Judith’s face at his sarcasm. “I think you’ll like this a bit less than usual. You remember when Anora and I had our private talk yesterday?”

“Yes?” He looked apprehensive, reflexively taking the last of the cheese off the breakfast tray.

“The easiest way to resolve the civil war so we can all get on to the business of ending the Blight is to ally the house of Theirin with the power currently on the throne.” She paused, watching as Alistair chewed on the cheese, his jaws slowing as her meaning began to filter through. He swallowed it all in a lump, coughing, his eyes staring at her in horror as he understood. 

“’House of Theirin’? ‘Ally’? That’s an awfully impersonal way to tell me you want me to spend the rest of my life sleeping with Anora!” 

“’Want,’ I think, is an overstatement,” Judith said. “But it makes sense, strategically.”

“Strategically? Is that what I’m supposed to tell Leliana?! That everything we’ve … been together is nothing because Anora makes sense strategically?” He was shouting at her now, and Judith looked at him sadly.

“I don’t know what you should tell her. She knows she can’t be queen, we’ve all been over this.”

Calming somewhat, Alistair said, “No, I don’t think she really does know. She’s so practical in so many ways, but in this …”

“Do you want me to talk to her?”

“No. I’ll have to. I just … don’t know what to tell her. I wish— I never wanted this.”

“I know you didn’t. And I’m sorry,” Judith said softly. “I wish there was a way for the two of you, but we all know there isn’t.” She waited a moment, then asked, “Will you do it?”

“Marry Anora?”

She nodded. 

Alistair swallowed, standing up. Judith could see in his eyes that he wanted to say no, wanted to insist on having something in his life go the way he wanted it, and she held her breath, waiting to see what he would do. 

“I have to talk to Leliana,” he said hoarsely.

“Does that mean you’ll do it?”

He shrugged miserably before rushing out of the room.

Judith rubbed a hand across her face, wishing somehow she could find a way to make it right for her friends. But it wasn’t to be.


	26. Nobles

At 8:50 Judith was waiting in the library, fully armed and armored. Zev popped his head in the door a couple of minutes later.

“My lovely Warden,” the assassin said, “Alistair asks if you can possibly find someone to take his place. It seems he is …”

“Say no more,” she said. She could only imagine how the scene between Alistair and Leliana was going, and she needed them to resolve this now, so they could go into the Landsmeet with an agreed-upon plan. 

Judith remembered that Morrigan had befriended an Alienage elf in Howe’s dungeons. That couldn’t hurt. “Get Morrigan, will you, please, Zev? And Oghren,” she added, her eyes resting on Daniel as he entered the room. It would be foolish to count on Daniel as their only warrior, in case he was unable to handle fighting at the side of two mages. Her eyes gave no indication of her thought processes as she smiled warmly at her lover. “How are you?”

“Feeling pretty good. Must be all the rest I got.” Daniel grinned at her and she felt a blush spreading across her cheeks. Daniel stepped closer, and Judith’s eyes fluttered closed as he leaned in to kiss her. 

“Ah, look at ‘em. Fresh from a night full o’ dippin’ the candle and they’re about to go at it again. I remember the nights me and Branka rode the greased bronto 10, 12 times and still had the energy to get back on it in the morning,” Oghren bellowed, coming in to the room just at that moment.

“My friend, your language is as colorful as your exploits,” Zev purred. “Not, however, as brilliant as mine, however. I recall the night I spent with a mage of the Antivan Circle. She performed a spell—“

“Thanks, Zev, that’ll do,” Judith said hastily, glancing at Daniel.

“I’m sure it would have been an interesting story,” he offered.

“’Interesting’?” Zev looked affronted. “Scintillating, my dear Sergeant. Captivating, even.”

Judith ground her teeth. “Zev. Shut. Up.”

“Consider it done,” the Antivan said. Judith thought she could even see a faint flush tinting his cheeks.

“Have I missed the pointless banter?” Morrigan said icily as she entered the room. “How remiss of me, to arrive so tardily.”

“Morrigan, Daniel, Daniel, Morrigan,” Judith said, and felt a ridiculous pang of jealousy when Daniel’s eyes lingered on the apostate’s revealing outfit. 

“At last I meet the famous Sergeant,” Morrigan said. 

“A pleasure,” he said, bowing.

“And mannerly, too! ‘Tis a miracle. Perhaps you could teach Alistair.”

“Can we go now?” Judith said, sighing. “There’s work to do. You know, the Blight? Do we remember that?”

There was a chorus of agreement, and Judith led the group out of Arl Eamon’s estate.

On the way to the Alienage, she stopped outside the Gnawed Noble. “I’m going to talk to some of the Banns, collect some support if I can. Zev, can you do some snooping? Morrigan, see if you can cozy up to the bartender.” She ignored the apostate’s sneer. “Daniel, with me?” He nodded. “And Oghren? Try to stay sober enough to fight.”

“Whatchu talkin’ ‘bout, Warden?” Oghren protested. “I fight better after a tankard. Or ten.” The dwarf swaggered into the inn as if he owned it.

Kylon and Judith went into the inn. There was a depressed, drunken Bann just inside, who growled at them no matter what Judith said, so she left him to his bitterness and beer. As Judith walked toward the next booth, a man with a careworn face looked up at her. 

“I know you,” he said excitedly, interrupting the man sitting across from him. “My son described you. I am Bann Sighard, and you saved my son Oswyn from Arl Howe’s dungeons.” He clenched his fists. “The things that were done to my boy, Warden,” he said, his voice breaking. “Thank you for killing that monster.”

Judith nodded, her eyes soft with sympathy. “How is Oswyn?”

“He will live, but the healers say his legs will never be the same again.” Bann Sighard swallowed. “Can I offer you a reward for saving my child?”

“I ask no reward for compassion. I ask only that you support us in the Landsmeet,” she said, feeling bad enough for asking that. 

“Of course. I will support you to the best of my capabilities.”

“Thank you, ser.”

Judith moved on, searching for Bann Alfstanna. She found the pretty Bann at another table, talking earnestly with a man who did not look best pleased at the interruption. 

“Bann Alfstanna,” Judith said softly. “I bring this from your brother.”

“Irminric? You saw him?” Alfstanna stood up, her eyes hardening with suspicion. “This ring has never left his hand.”

“He is in the dungeons at Arl Howe’s estate, my lady. He … his mind has been affected by his imprisonment, and he refused to leave.”

“Arl Howe?” Alfstanna’s eyes narrowed. “You’re the Grey Warden, aren’t you?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Thank you for finding my brother. And for dealing with that bastard Howe. You will have my support in the Landsmeet,” she said, bowing. “Now I must go to Irminric.”

Judith said, “Even if Teyrn Loghain has explanations for everything else, I don’t think he can ever explain how he let a monster like Howe have free rein to do all the things he did.”

“No argument from me,” Daniel said grimly. As she turned to leave the tavern, he caught her arm. “Judith.” 

He looked uncomfortable, and that made her nervous. “What?”

“It’s just that … well, after I help you out here and in the Alienage, I really do have to report back to duty.”

“With the Denerim Guards? After what Arl Howe did to you?”

“That wasn’t the city’s fault.” He shrugged. “I’m needed now more than ever, with no one looking after the Arling. I am sworn to protect and defend this city. I can’t go against my oath—not for your sake or my own.”

“I understand, really, I do. But you’re helping me fight against the Blight. Isn’t that equally important?”

“Of course. But I can be useful in the fight against the Blight in my role as Sergeant in the Denerim guards, and there’s no one to take my place there.”

She sighed. “Can we talk about this later?” 

He nodded, but she could tell it wasn’t going to be easy to talk him out of it.


	27. Shianni

Judith and Kylon were in the lead as the group walked into the Alienage, and they both recoiled when the smell assailed them. Rotting garbage, putrid flesh, excrement … “What’s happened here?” Kylon said, looking around him in shock. “It’s bad enough, normally, but nothing like this.”

They heard shouts up ahead and went in to find a group of elves in tattered clothing surrounding a human man. “Shem!” they hissed. “You came hunting in the wrong place.”

As Judith and her team came closer, the elves looked up and fled. The trembling human approached Judith. “Th-thank you,” he said. “You saved my life. No telling what those bleeding knife-ears would’ve done.”

In her mind’s eye, Judith could see Megara and Delle, two of her friends from the Tower, both elves originally from Denerim’s Alienage. She’d found Megara’s remains spread on a bed in the Tower, eviscerated by a demon, and had fought an abomination with Delle’s eyes. They’d deserved better. She looked at the man. “The elves were right. You did come hunting in the wrong place. Get out, and don’t let me see you back here again.” 

The man’s eyes drifted over the party, resting on Zev. “An elf-lover,” he sneered. “Shoulda known.”

“If only such delights could be true …” Zev said wistfully, but his hands rested lightly on his daggers, and the man swallowed, hastily fleeing the Alienage.

Judith moved forward, her anger boiling over. Who had allowed the Alienage to get into this condition? “Daniel, what’s happened here?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I knew the Alienage had been closed off—some sort of plague, we were told—but I had no idea it was this bad. It’s not my usual patch. Besides, the elves keep to themselves, police themselves in large part. They don’t appreciate humans coming in to enforce the laws, so they try to stay quiet.”

The smell got worse as they turned the corner into the main square of the Alienage, and now the noise increased as well. A large mob of elves had collected outside a rickety building that was being guarded by two mages in Tevinter-style robes. Judith paused, screened by a scaffolding, studying their faces. Those weren’t Fereldan mages, she’d swear to that. By this point, she’d probably met every legitimate mage in the country, as few of them as were left now. And it was beyond conception that apostates would display themselves so openly, even in the Alienage. 

At her shoulder, she heard Zev’s murmur. “Tevinters. This is not the best news,” he said. 

“What in Thedas is going on here?” Kylon said.

“Morrigan, do you see your friend from Howe’s dungeon?” Judith asked. 

“Hardly a friend,” the witch protested. “Merely someone whose cage I unlocked.” She looked around. “There. On the edge. With the red-headed elf.”

Judith followed Morrigan’s pointing finger. She saw a dark-haired young elf standing next to a smaller red-headed woman who was screaming at the mob. Interesting, Judith thought. Screaming at the mob, not at the Tevinters. The mages didn’t seem too concerned about the red-head. Mostly they were ignoring her, standing in front of the door to the ramshackle building with their arms folded.

“All right,” Judith said. “Let’s go. Morrigan, introductions, please.”

Morrigan led the way around the mob. The dark-haired elf smiled at her. “It’s you,” he said. “I hoped you would come so I could have the opportunity to thank you again for rescuing me.”

Always uncomfortable with gratitude, Morrigan flushed. “Soris, may I introduce Judith, the Grey Warden, as well as Sergeant Kylon of the Denerim guards. Also, Oghren of Orzammar and Zevran of Antiva.”

Soris looked at the assortment, nodding his head. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said.

“Pleasure, my ass,” snapped the red-head. “Do we look like we have time to stand around exchanging civilities? Is this a tea party? Because I think half the Alienage may be the refreshments.”  
Looking uncomfortable, Soris said, “This is my cousin Shianni. She’s …”

“Angry,” Shianni supplied in place of whatever Soris would have said. “These sodding Tevinters are holding countless elves hostage, and no one in Denerim gives a dead dog’s balls about it.”

Oghren chuckled obscenely. “Oh, I like her. She’s a feisty one. Fancy a game of sheath the sword, Spitfire?”

Shianni looked over at Oghren. “Ew. Is that a dwarf, or a trash can that talks?”

“My kinda girl. Anytime you need a lesson in twirlin’ the pike of love …,” Oghren said.

Judith cut in as Shianni opened her mouth to retort. This could clearly go on all day, or at least until the rest of them were ready to vomit. Which wouldn’t be long, judging from Morrigan’s expression. “Shianni, you seem to have some idea what’s going on here. Can you fill us in, please? Oghren, don’t make me wish I’d brought the dog instead,” she said as Oghren began to explain just what he would like to fill in.

Shianni glared at the dwarf, then looked back at Judith. “Those men have been taking elves inside that building for weeks now, claiming that there’s a plague in the Alienage and only they have the spell that will keep us all from getting sick. Only, many of the people they’ve ‘treated’ have never come out again, and very few seem to be sick.”

“Where do you think they’re going?”

“I don’t know,” Shianni said. “There’s a back entrance into an alley—maybe they’re taking them through the alley into one of the apartment buildings back there. But I don’t know why!”

“How long has this been going on?” Kylon asked.

“Long enough, shem,” Shianni snapped. “I know you. You’re in the Guards. Like your kind has ever cared what happened to my people.”

“Not knowing and not caring aren’t the same thing,” he said, but there was guilt on his face. Not knowing was also not the same as ignoring, which is largely what he had done to the Alienage.

“How long, Shianni?” Judith said. 

“Why do you want to know? It’s not like you’d be willing to help.” Shianni’s face was hard.

“Did you ever know a girl named Megara? She was relatively old when they brought her to the Tower. 15, I think.”

“I knew Megara,” Shianni said unwillingly.

“So did I,” Judith said. “She was my friend, and I was too late to save her when the Tower fell. I would like to do what I can for her people.”

Shianni looked at the mage suspiciously, but the blue eyes were clear and guileless. “Two, three weeks maybe. A couple of people got sick, then those Tevinters came in, claiming they had the cure. The first people to sicken were our hahren, Valendrian, and several of our elders. The wisest, coolest heads. After that, there’s been little illness, but the ones who are taken and disappear tend to be the young and the healthy—and the beautiful. Now, is that suspicious enough for you?”

“It is.”

“May I ask, if the beautiful and young are the first taken, how it is that you remain?” Zev asked. His words were courtly, as always, but Judith could hear the sharp assassin’s brain behind them.

As Shianni started to blister Zev with her tongue, Judith cut in. “It’s a good question, Shianni. Why haven’t they taken you?”

The red-headed elf’s eyes hardened. “Let them try putting their shem hands on me. They’ll lose every appendage they have. Including the … pike of love.” 

All the men in the party stepped back. 

“All right,” Judith said decisively. “We’ll go check out the hospice.”

“Just like that? You’re just going to walk past two sodding mages, take a look around, and walk back out again.” Shianni looked disbelieving. 

“Something like that, yes,” Judith said. 

“I know, ‘tis hard to believe such foolhardiness actually succeeds, is it not? And yet, I have seen it do so, many times,” Morrigan said. She looked at Shianni not unkindly. “The Warden has a tendency to prevail where others have not.”

Soris looked relieved by Morrigan’s words. He put his hand on his cousin’s shoulder. “I don’t see anyone else in here offering to help, Shianni,” he said.

“True enough,” the red-headed said reluctantly. “Fine. But try not to screw anything up. Things are bad enough here.”

“I’ll do my best,” Judith said. “Zev, you’re the least conspicuous. Can you do some scouting, figure out the most unobtrusive way in?” He nodded, disappearing into the crowd. “Oghren, keep your eyes on those Tevinters. Let me know if they move or do anything suspicious.”

“Aye.”

Moving a bit away from the two cousins, Judith said quietly, “Daniel, Morrigan, let’s do some exploring. See if there’s anyone else here willing to talk.” She’d seen someone behind another tumble-down building who interested her, and she led the way. Under a flimsy awning stood a man in full Templar armor, but without the helmet. He turned his head toward them as they approached. Judith walked closer, and drew in her breath when she recognized him. “Ser Otto?” she asked quietly.

His eyes looked in her direction, but did not see. They were scorched white orbs in his head. “The voice is familiar.” He sniffed delicately. “Pines. Snow on the mountainside. Judith Amell!” His face lit up in a smile.

“Ser Otto, what happened to you?” she asked. She could still remember crouching in the corner of the Chantry, a little girl who up until two days before had been her parents’ pride and joy, until she froze the water in the kettle because she didn’t want porridge for breakfast. Her mother had recoiled from her, and she’d been banished to the Chantry to await the Templars. They had come barrelling up the mountainside, their horses’ hooves churning up the snow, as small Judith watched, wide-eyed. The lead Templar had stepped down from his horse, doffing the scary helmet, and shivered dramatically as fresh snow had fallen on his bald head, making her laugh. His eyes had been blue, blue as the mountain lake on a summer day. He’d been so kind to the heartbroken little girl, carrying her gently on the front of his horse, checking on her every time he came to the Tower. About five years ago, Ser Otto had stopped coming. Now she knew why.

“It was a fight with a maleficar. He used fire, scorching my face.”

“I’m so sorry.” She was very aware of Daniel standing behind her. Two men she cared about, damaged by maleficarum. 

“Don’t be. Many others did not survive that mission.” Ser Otto shifted what would have been his gaze over her shoulder. “Who is it who accompanies you? I sense … the forest. Dark, and wild. And Denerim. The smell of the city is strong upon you, friend.”

“I am amazed that you can smell anything, amidst such a stench as this,” Morrigan remarked.

“When one sense is taken away, my lady, the others sharpen and become stronger.”

“Ser Otto, this is my friend and companion Morrigan, and my … friend Sergeant Kylon.” She stumbled over referring to Daniel as her friend. But what other word was there? Lover? Hardly the word she wanted to use in front of one of the few parental figures that remained in her life. She hoped Daniel didn’t mind.

Otto seemed to have gotten the message anyway. “That would explain the change in your scent, then, my dear girl,” he said quietly. “The mountains, yes, and the lyrium of the Circle, but also now the richness of the city is part of you.” He nodded, smiling a bit.

Judith was glad he couldn’t see her blush. “Ser Otto, what are you doing in the Alienage? Do you know anything about this plague?”

“I don’t. I was sent here not for the plague, but rather to investigate rumors that maleficarum were using the Alienage as a base.”

“And are they?” Kylon broke in, his voice hard.

“No. Not that I can tell. But there is something amiss, something I cannot put my finger on.” He looked troubled. “There is a dark presence here in the Alienage. And I do not mean the mages who guard the hospice, although they are not here to do good. I have tried to convince the Knight-Commander to look into it, but he is afraid to, I believe. He smells of fear when I have spoken of it to him. The elves do not want to talk about it, and I have discovered as much as I can by hearing and smell. I need eyes, and do not have them.”

“I will be your eyes, Ser Otto,” Judith said gently. “What do you want me to find?”

“What you are looking for is … evil. Not the ordinary petty evil of blood magic, which is bad enough, but something dank and fetid. You will feel it. A demon, perhaps.” He turned his face in Judith’s direction.

“Will I find you here, then?” she asked, looking at the eyes that no longer saw her and wanting to cry. 

“You will. And Judith? Do not weep for me. I am glad to still be useful.”

“Of course,” she said, but didn’t sound convincing, even to herself.

They left him, standing there, his face turned in their direction. 

“You know him,” Daniel said quietly.

“He was the Templar who came for me, when they found out I was a mage. He was … very kind. And he used to come see me every time he came to the Circle, always brought me candy or a small gift from wherever he had been.” 

She looked so sad, Daniel wanted to hold her, but the middle of the Alienage didn’t seem the right place. “Friend, huh?” he said instead, grinning at her.

“For lack of a better term,” she said, smiling. Her eyes swept over his face, not entirely in fun. 

“We’ll have to see if we can improve on it,” he said. He thought he could spend hours looking into those eyes and still not see all the way to their depths. “Later.”

“Let’s clean up the Alienage, then,” she said. “No time to waste!”


	28. Alienage

They joined Oghren where he was keeping an eye on the front door of the hospice, and Zev emerged from the crowd a moment later. “The front door is rather heavily guarded by mages and fighters,” he said. “But the back door is watched only by a single elf. Very nervous.”

“Back door it is, then,” Judith said. She waved Shianni over. “We think we’ll try the back entrance to the hospice. Can you make a scene and cover us as we go around?”

“Does a dog have plague-ridden fleas?” Shianni walked up to one of the guards and started shouting again. The rest of the elves closed in on her, trying to convince her to be quiet so she didn’t damage their chances of getting in.

Meanwhile, Judith and her team went around the edge of the crowd into the alley next to the hospice. When she saw the elf guarding the rear door, Judith walked up to him. “I don’t suppose you’d like to let me in there, look around a bit.”

He sneered at her. “Don’t suppose I would. Why would you want in there anyway? You’re not sick.”

“Aye, but you might be,” Oghren crowed. He unslung his hammer, tapping its giant head lightly in one meaty hand.

The elf recoiled. “Is that a dwarf? He looks … disturbed,” he said to Judith.

“Oh, he is,” she said with a chuckle. “Also very, very drunk. Not responsible for his actions.”

Oghren grunted, lifting the hammer again. “Nothin’ like an elf skull,” he said. “Sodding soft, but makes a mighty nice squishin’ sound.”

“Call him off!” the elf cried out in alarm. 

“Only way to do that is if you give me the key and get lost,” Judith said regretfully. “But you said you didn’t want to do that.”

“I’ve reconsidered,” said the elf hastily. He held out the key. When Judith took it from him, he took to his heels, running down the alley.

“Oghren, my friend, you should leave some of the fun for the rest of us,” Zev complained.

“Next time, swishy, be man enough to take it yourself,” Oghren chortled.

Kylon watched as Judith turned the key in the lock, then lifted one booted foot and kicked the door in. Immediately there were shouts from inside, as the guards attacked, and Judith chanted a spell, sending cold air whooshing forth to freeze whoever was inside. She rushed in, and Kylon followed her with the rest of the group. Oghren’s hammer took out the first frozen guard, shattering him. Judith was engaged with another warrior, Spellweaver clashing with his sword. Morrigan’s mind blast swept across the room, and Oghren and Zev cornered a guard together, clearly enjoying playing him off against each other. Kylon joined Judith, lending the strength of his two-handed attack to her admittedly impressive sword skills. As Kylon’s sword found a weak point in the guard’s armor, an arcane bolt shot over his shoulder, hitting the guard in the head. Kylon shuddered at the crackle of the magic as the man fell slowly, a smoking hole in his forehead.

He turned to find Morrigan’s level gaze on him. She nodded at him once. “A lesser man would have flinched, Sergeant, after what you have undergone. Impressive.” He didn’t feel particularly impressive, as his knees were still trembling. Looking around, he saw that all the guards were down. Zev and Oghren were sorting through the armor. As he watched, Zev held up a pair of boots. “These are not bad,” he said, not seeming concerned by the barefoot corpse in front of him. “They should bring a decent price in the market.”

“Do you always loot your enemies?” Kylon asked Judith uneasily. 

“Grey Wardens aren’t exactly paid for their efforts these days,” she said, shrugging lightly. “We have to eat. And maintain our equipment. And pay tolls. However …” She looked around the room, saying to the others, “Leave some of the valuable stuff. The Alienage elves probably need it more than we do.” She walked over to a desk in the corner, rifling through the papers. Lifting a scrap of paper to the light, she squinted at it. “’Eight males and six females needed for next shipment,’” she read. “Daniel, does that sound to you like it sounds to me?”

“Slavers,” he spat angrily. “In Ferelden.”

“I should have suspected such a thing,” Zev said. “Ferelden has a reputation as a country that frowns upon slavery, however.”

“Only Loghain would have the authority to make this deal,” Judith said. “I can’t imagine how he thought he could get away with it.”

“He appears to have done so for quite some time,” Morrigan said. “People seem to be interested only in what occurs under their own noses.”

Kylon flushed guiltily. “Let’s find who’s responsible for this and see to it that they’re in no condition to enslave anyone else,” he growled.

They heard a weak cry from behind a locked door in the corner. Judith fit the key into the flimsy lock, turning it, and found several elves there, locked in a cage, and looking as though they had put up a mighty struggle.

“Thank the Maker,” breathed a dark-haired elf with a purple bruise covering half his face. “Whoever you are, please let us out. We’re not sick!”

Judith fumbled with the lock, but the key wouldn’t turn. She muttered an incantation and blew on the lock, freezing it, then broke it off. “The others who have been taken, the ones the Tevinters were claiming to cure,” she asked, “do you know what happened to them?”

The bruised elf shook his head. “They took them out, but where I couldn’t say. We— We’re getting out of here,” he said. “Maker bless you!” 

“Wait!” Judith called. The elves paused, looking at her with terrified faces. “Take the back door. Otherwise you’ll be walking right into the arms of the Tevinters.”

Without stopping to acknowledge that they’d heard her, the elves switched directions and ran out of the building by the back door.

Judith stood indecisively in the middle of the room. “What do you think?” she asked Daniel. “Do we go out the front and take out the guards there, or do we go out the back and see if we can figure out where they’re taking people?”

He considered for a moment. “We know how many are out front. A couple of mages and a few guards. But we don’t know how many others there are wherever the elves are going. There’s less potential for being surprised and overwhelmed from behind if we go out the back door and investigate the fate of the elves. Besides,” he added, “we don’t know when the next shipment is leaving. We might be able to save some if we get to them sooner rather than later.”

“The Sergeant gives sound advice,” Zev said. “There is a greater chance of surprising those loading the elves into the ships if no one yet realizes that the hospice has been taken.”

“All right, then,” Judith said, leading the way out the back door. 

They found themselves in the deserted alley again. Judith looked around. “Now, they have to be taking the elves from this back door to another building they can reach without being outside too long. Zev?”

Studying the ground at their feet, Zev muttered to himself a bit. Morrigan joined him, and the two of them spread out, following paths marked in the dirt that Judith could barely see. Eventually Zev looked up, nodding toward a door at the end of the alley. “I believe that is where we should seek.” Morrigan nodded her agreement, and Judith, picking her way around piles of refuse that even the rats wouldn’t touch, headed toward the door.

The door led into an apartment building, which stank of rotting food. Their footsteps echoed in the hallway.

“This is bleedin’ freaky, Warden,” Oghren growled. “Where’d they all go?”

“Probably the people who lived here were the first to be taken,” Kylon said grimly. “That way the building would be empty and there would be no one to notice what it was being used for.”

As they rounded a corner, they saw a solitary elf bending over a pile of garbage at the end of the hall.

“You there!” Judith called. The elf looked up, wild-eyed, and tried to flee, but Morrigan caught him with a paralysis spell, holding him in place. As it slowly began to wear off, Judith went up to him. “We’re not going to hurt you,” she said. “We just need some information.” 

“That’s what they all say,” he scoffed.

Behind her Judith heard a clinking sound. Zev had taken a pair of sovereigns from his pouch and was rolling them around his fingers. The elf’s eyes caught the glint of the metal, and watched the coins, mesmerized.

“Willing to talk now?” Judith asked, amused.

“Wh-What do you want to know?”

“What happened here?”

“P-people dragged from their beds. Middle of the night. Children crying. Women screaming. Then everyone was gone,” the elf said. He licked his lips, still watching the sovereigns.

“Where were they taken?”

“Down the hall. End door. Old manager’s office. Now, please, let me go! They’ll take me next, see if they don’t!” Zev tossed the elf the money, Morrigan dispelled the paralysis, and the elf was gone, even his cloth-shod feet echoing in the empty building.

As they walked through the building, Judith checked in all the rooms, searching through chests and barrels by habit. There was little to loot, however. The elves who had inhabited the building had lived with the bare minimum. Everywhere there were signs of the hasty exit—children’s battered, cheap, but clearly well-loved toys abandoned on the floor; chairs fallen over; bedclothes scattered across the room where people had been dragged from their pallets. Kylon felt his anger at the way these people had been treated boiling up, and was almost glad when Judith opened a door and found a room occupied by Tevinters.

The battle was a brief one—Judith cast a spell, freezing those closest to the door. Kylon was sensing that this was a pattern. Then Judith moved into the room, engaging one of the nonfrozen soldiers, and the others followed. Oghren’s hammer shattered those who had been frozen, and Zev was swift with his daggers, catching the soldiers in the back at the seams of their armor. Morrigan stood in the doorway chanting spells. Kylon went where there seemed to be a gap, his sword and dagger hacking into an elf’s leather armor. His own equipment was lost somewhere in Howe’s dungeons, so Judith had outfitted him from their stock. The sword he was using, enchanted with some kind of lightning rune, cut through the leather as if it were butter, and shocked the skin underneath.

Soon it was over, and they stood in the manager’s disused office, ready to exit the building and deal with whatever was on the other side of the door.


	29. Fallen

Judith opened the door, stepping out into the alley. Immediately, an armored man stepped in front of her. “Hey! They said there wouldn’t be trouble from the authorities.”

“I’m not the ‘authorities,’” Judith said. “What’s going on here?”

“None of your business, lady,” he said. “I’d tell you to turn around and go back where you came from, but it’s a bit late for that.” He whistled for his companions, who ranged themselves behind him, all of them grinning at Judith.

“Oh, I don’t think turning around was in the plans,” she said. She raised her arms, pushing the air toward the men. It turned to a freezing wind as their eyes widened, and then they were encased in ice. “Let’s get these guys out of the way and go see where we’re headed.”

“Gladly,” Zev said, as the first man began to thaw. They joined battle, dispatching the guards quickly. 

Judith moved past the fallen men. She pointed to a door across the alley. “Over there, I think, is where we’re headed.”

“Makes sense,” Kylon said. “There’s a dock just on the other side of this block of buildings.” 

“Most convenient,” said Morrigan. “How fortunate for the Tevinters.”

Inside the building, a large group of fighters was standing guard. A pretty dark-haired elf with a light Tevinter accent left the group and came toward Judith. “Well, what do we have here? A group of do-gooders, out to clean up the Alienage?” Her mouth twisted in a sardonic smile. “You’re a bit late.”

“You’re an elf!” Judith said in disbelief. “How can you do this to your own people?”

The Tevinter shrugged. “I am Tevinter,” she said. “Besides, ‘my people’, as you term them, have allowed this to be done. How many of them are there, crammed into this Alienage? If any of them had bothered to listen to that loud-mouthed red-head, they could have banded together and done something. As you see, they haven’t. Instead, they’ve lined up like sheep, waiting to be corralled. Why should we treat them as anything else?”

“An excellent analysis,” Morrigan said. “Those who will not fight for themselves are already defeated. Did we not witness that in the Tower of Magi?” Her eyebrow quirked and a smile glimmered in the depths of her golden eyes. It was an argument she and Judith had been through many times.

“Those who have been too downtrodden to fight for themselves must be protected until they learn how. It’s why we don’t shove our young out of the nest,” Judith said. “We teach them to fly before we let them go free.”

“What a charming philosophy,” sneered the Tevinter. “You Fereldans talk loudly enough about the great wrongs of slavery, but dangle some gold in front of you and the silence is deafening.”

“Not all Fereldans give up their principles for the promise of riches,” Kylon said, his hand on the pommel of his sword. He itched to swing it at the Tevinter and knock the smile off her face.

“All the ones I’ve met have,” the Tevinter said. “It’s just a matter of finding the right price. Everyone can be bought.”

“Indeed,” Zev said. “But do they stay that way? A person remains bought only as long as the price you offer is the highest available.”

“Eh,” grunted Oghren. “Less talkin’, more killin’.”

“I’m afraid I am here to halt your slaughter,” the Tevinter said, unslinging her bow. It was a beautiful weapon, made of rosewood with gold inlay, and lovingly polished.

Judith laughed. “I’d like to see you try.”

“So be it.”

Judith tried to freeze the elf, but she danced out of range, nocking an arrow. Her men surrounded the group as she and two other archers withdrew to range. Kylon, Zev, and Oghren had as much as they could do to keep up with the Tevinter soldiers, and Judith was kept busy with healing spells, while Morrigan focused her abilities on the elf archer. The beautiful bow fired rapidly, the arrows speeding through the air, impacting on their targets with crushing force. They rarely missed. Used as they were to defeating the majority of their opponents with little trouble, Judith and her team found this skirmish turning into a deadly struggle.

Zev was the first to fall. Only two of the Tevinters were down, and all of Judith’s team was sporting injuries. Oghren was the only one whose energy wasn’t flagging yet, his exhaustion and frustration only providing fuel for his berserker rage. Judith closed her eyes, feeling for Zev. When she felt his essence, she reached down inside herself, feeling the life flowing through her and into him. Gasping, she gathered her remaining mana energy, reaching out with it like fingers to heal the wounds of the entire party. She staggered, catching herself on the wall, feeling weariness sap her strength with the expenditure of so much mana.

Kylon felt the healing spell sending its cool waves down his spine and legs, his wounds closing. He shivered at the touch, so intimate. Far from being disturbing, however, it was comforting. Reassuring, that she was still there, her presence strong and quiet in the back of the room sustaining them all. Then an arrow flew across the room, finding a gap in his armor. Staggering back, he felt a blade bite into his side, and the blackness closed in.

At the back of the room, Judith saw him fall. She uncorked a lyrium potion, feeling the strength and power coursing through her, the crackle of electricity at her fingertips. Flexing experimentally, she knew she needed a few minutes before she was able to summon the life force to revive Daniel. Instead, she gathered her energies, feeling lightning spark at her fingertips, and sent it arcing across the room, where it crackled among the archers at the back.. Despite her own and Morrigan’s best efforts, the elf archer was still on her feet. Judith cast another group healing spell, but it came too late for Zev, who staggered and fell once more. 

Oghren growled in his rage, swinging his massive hammer and caving in the chest of one of the Tevinters. Judith stretched out her arms experimentally. She felt Daniel, gathering her strength and sending it pumping into him. She saw him rise with a smile of triumph, but looked back at the elf too late to dodge the arrow that flew across the room. The force of it knocked her back against the wall. Judith struggled to rise, but the effort was too great, and she collapsed, the room spinning in a whirl of colors until they all ran together and turned black.

“Judith!” Kylon shouted, but Oghren grabbed his arm as he began to rush to her.

“Are you mad, boy? Fight now, squeal like a nug later!” The dwarf roared, his hammer poised over his head, and ran toward the elf archer. He swung the hammer in a circle around his head, bringing it down on her shoulder. She yelled in pain, but the arrow left her bow strongly and found Morrigan’s unprotected side. 

The mage cried out, falling backward, and then it was just the two of them, Oghren and Kylon. Oghren grinned wildly, his eyes sparkling, and Kylon felt the dwarf’s energy infusing him, despite the ringing in his ears that indicated a concussion. Yelling at the top of their lungs, they rushed forward, and Oghren’s hammer caught the elf archer’s other shoulder as Kylon’s sword bit into her leg. At last she fell. The last two archers were relatively easy to take care of, and then the two of them stood, panting, looking around at the carnage. The smell of blood and metal and lyrium was strong in the room, and Kylon shuddered, his stomach churning at the memories that smell was bringing up.

Bracing his arm against the doorway, he concentrated on breathing until the nausea passed.

“You wanta help me here when you’re done bein’ all squeamish? Sodding cloudheads,” Oghren growled. “No stomach at all.” He was down on his knees next to Zev, ministering to the elf’s wounds, which were many. Zev was beginning to stir, moaning. He sat up, coughing, and gazed with horrified eyes at the blood spattered all over his armor. 

“These constant battles make it so difficult to maintain one’s tonsorial splendor,” he said weakly.

“Tonso-eh?!” Oghren spat, while with surprisingly gentle hands he tilted Zev’s head up and poured a healing potion into his mouth. “I never get the half of what you’re jabberin’ about.”

“It is just as well, my friend. If you did, perhaps you would take up bathing, and we would all be at a loss for something to complain about,” Zev said, his voice getting stronger. 

Kylon went to Judith, kneeling next to her and taking her in his arms. He removed the arrow, placing a poultice over the spot where it had sunk into her flesh to stem the flow of blood, letting the elfroot begin its work. With a damp cloth he bathed her temples, watching as her eyes began to flutter. She opened them to find him staring down at her in concern.

“Well, that could have gone better,” she whispered weakly. “Usually we manage to stay on our feet.”

“That was quite a bow,” he said. A tremor went through him at the memory of her being knocked to the ground. “Don’t do that to me again, please.”

Judith smiled. “Yes, ser.” Holding her close, Daniel bent, raining kisses on her cheeks and forehead in his relief.

“Oh, do not mind me,” Morrigan drawled, rising from the floor and casting a healing spell on the wound at her side. “I will be fine. Please, feel free to be inappropriately affectionate at my expense.”

“Sorry, Morrigan,” Judith said, laughing softly, but she didn’t look sorry at all.


	30. Power

There wasn’t time for leisurely healing. With the aid of spells and poultices, they patched up everyone’s wounds as best they could before moving through the rest of the building. Most of the rooms had only one or two men in them, easily dealt with.

Finally they came to a long hallway that sloped downward, with a single door at the end. Several soldiers were watching the door, and Judith and Morrigan alternated fireballs and cold spells until they’d finished them all off, saving everyone else’s energy. Judith uncorked a lyrium potion, feeling the warmth of it spreading through her. She closed her eyes, glad to have the power available should she need it, while Kylon watched her worriedly. He was comfortable fighting under her leadership, but something about that look on her face after she’d taken a lyrium potion disturbed him. He thought less of himself for his discomfort, but couldn’t stop it.

Judith took the lead again, skirting dead soldiers on her way to the door at the end of the hallway. She kicked it in, sure that this was the final room, and here they would find the people responsible for the slavery and the unrest in the Alienage.

Soldiers lined the walls of the room, most of them with crossbows. In the center stood a tall, balding mage in Tevinter robes. He smiled as Judith came through the shattered door. “So at last, here is the Grey Warden I have heard so much about,” he said pleasantly, his voice melodious. “Poor Loghain speaks of little else these days. ‘Warden’ has even triumphed over ‘gold’ in his vocabulary.” He shook his head at Judith, his eyes crinkling with mirth. “Such a lovely girl to cause so much dismay in Ferelden’s regent.”

Judith met his eyes, unmoved by his smooth voice and friendly manner. “I’ve come to tell you that your operations in Ferelden are finished. You would do well to turn around, get on your ship, and go back where you came from.”

“I believe I will take that advice,” he said. “I am no fool. However … perhaps we could make a bit of an exchange before I depart?”

“You can’t be thinking of making any kind of deal with this slaver,” Kylon protested. Judith cleared her throat warningly. 

“Dissension in the ranks?” mocked the Tevinter mage. “Maybe you’re not such a formidable opponent after all, if you can’t keep your own people in line.”

“You wanted to talk. Do so, or go.” Judith’s eyes were steely, and she crossed her arms over her chest, waiting.

The mage held up a piece of vellum. “I have here,” he said, “a little letter authorizing the sale of elves from Denerim’s Alienage for cold, hard gold from Tevinter. It bears not only the signature of Loghain Mac Tir, but also the seal of Gwaren. I don’t suppose it would be of interest to you?”

“You know it would. What do you want?”

He tapped the paper against his lip, making a show of deliberating. “I think … 100 sovereigns might do it. Then I give you this lovely piece of paper, which you need to depose our dour friend, and I take my slaves and I go.”

“An interesting starting offer,” Morrigan said.

Zev, his eyes snapping in rarely displayed anger, said, “Look these elves in the eyes first, before you have them hauled off. This is not a deal that will leave your hands clean.”

Judith paid them little attention. She needed the letter. Could she get it without payment, without losing the elves? Or would the mage simply destroy it? She turned her head, looking speculatively at her team. Meeting Zev’s eyes, she raised her eyebrows, her eyes shifting in the mage’s direction and back. The narrowing of his brown eyes was enough. She turned back to the Tevinter mage. “You can’t have heard much about me if you think that’s a deal I’ll agree to. I don’t pay slavers, and I won’t be party to it, either.”

The mage sighed heavily. “I thought you might say so,” he said. He turned to give the signal to his men, the letter still dangling from his fingers. 

“Now, Zev,” Judith hissed softly, and the assassin rushed forward, vaulting over the railing in a blur of movement. Judith froze the Tevinter just a moment after Morrigan caught him with a vulnerability hex, before he had the chance to erect any barriers against their magic. Oghren headed down the right-hand set of steps, his berserker scream causing the soldiers on that side to step back, which was all the opening he needed to rush amongst them, hammer held high. Kylon followed the jerk of Judith’s head down the left-hand stairway, imitating Oghren’s scream as best he could. The soldiers on his side didn’t step back, but they did look at him as if he was crazy, which was almost good enough. He stabbed one through the unprotected neck with his dagger while slashing the sword at another’s legs, and then the battle was joined. 

From her place on the landing, Judith could see Zev’s form, swift as a shadow, darting forward, and he plucked the letter from the mage’s frozen fingers, stowing it away. The soldiers on each side were occupied with Kylon and Oghren’s attacks and with the fireballs Morrigan was calling down on them. Judith leaped lightly over the railing, as well, rushing forward with Spellweaver to engage the Tevinter mage as the spells wore off him. 

He was better than most mages at hand-to-hand combat, but, even with his physical size and strength adding an advantage, was no match for an arcane warrior. Especially with Zev dancing around behind him. The Tevinter mage kept trying to break off from the close quarters battle with Judith to cast some area-effect spells, but wasn’t able to maintain his focus with the two of them flanking him. 

Dimly Judith was aware of the clang of swords, Oghren’s bloodthirsty cries, and the thuds of bodies hitting the floor, but mostly she focused on the Tevinter mage, dodging his short-range fire blasts and electricity bursts and getting her sword under his defenses as much as possible. 

At last the Tevinter mage held up a hand, panting heavily. All his men were down, and he had barely enough strength left to speak. He knelt on the floor at Judith’s feet. “Enough!” he said. “I am convinced of your prowess. I surrender! But I may have something else to offer, something worth sparing my life for.”

Judith held Spellweaver at the ready, above her head. “Speak. Make it quick.”

She could feel the others gathered behind her, hear their weary breathing. But her focus remained on the mage in front of her. 

He spread his hands out before him. “I know certain … magics. I could take the life force of these elves,” he gestured to the cages lining the room, cages filled with elves. Most of them huddled at the back of the cages, apathetic, but one or two were clinging to the bars, watching the scene with glittering, desperate eyes. “And I could use that life force to augment your own. You could have power beyond anything you’ve ever experienced before.”

Behind her, Judith heard Morrigan’s intrigued drawl. “A most fascinating offer, and worth considering.”

Spellweaver still poised above her head, Judith turned, looking directly at Daniel. In that moment, his perception of her was as important as her answer. “You tell me,” she said, her eyes on his. “What’s my answer?” His eyes widened. “Not yours,” she clarified. “Mine.”

Kylon swallowed, looking deep into the blue eyes. Then he shook his head, warmth flooding him as he realized how sure of her he was. “No,” he said hoarsely. “No, you wouldn’t even consider it.”

Relief rushed through her, making her limbs weak. Judith turned to Zev. “You have that letter?” 

He nodded. “The keys to the cages, as well.”

She smiled, looking back at the Tevinter mage. “If you were as smart as you think you are, you wouldn’t have suggested that. Not even in desperation.” He barely had time to react as Spellweaver came down, slicing through his neck.

Judith took the keys from Zev, unlocking the cages. One of the elves who was standing came out first, his intelligent eyes on Judith’s face. “You’re no Tevinter,” he said.

“No. I’m Judith Amell, of the Grey Wardens, formerly of the Circle of Magi.”

“And I am Valendrian, hahren of the Alienage. You— How did you know to come here?”

“Queen Anora sent me to look into the unrest in the Alienage. She did not know what her father was doing,” Judith added hastily when Valendrian frowned. “And an elf named Shianni pointed us in this direction.”

Valendrian’s eyes brightened. “You’ve seen Shianni? She is well?”

“Feisty as a … mabari pup, that one,” Oghren put in, changing whatever he was going to say in response to the quelling look Judith gave him.

Chuckling, Valendrian said, “No surprise there.”

“Let’s get out of here, shall we?” Judith walked to the door, holding it open. The elves left first, followed by her team.

Daniel stopped in front of her. Their eyes met, his finally clear of the shadows of concern that had filled them since his experiences in Howe’s dungeon. 

“I was afraid,” she admitted. “That you didn’t trust me.”

“So was I,” he said, smiling. “But I do, Judith.” He took her hand in his, bloodied and bruised though it was, and raised it to his lips, kissing her fingertips. “I trust you.”

She smiled, too, her other hand reaching up to touch the side of his face as their mouths met, their kiss sweet and unhurried in the profoundness of their relief.


	31. Orphanage

The mages and soldiers were gone from in front of the hospice when Judith and her crew emerged from the alleys, and the crowd of elves had largely dispersed. Soris and Shianni still stood there, though. Soris’s face lit up when he saw them, especially Morrigan. 

“It appears you have a devotee,” Zev murmured to the witch. “Be gentle with him, _amiga_. He appears eager … but innocent. Not unlike a certain ex-Templar, eh?”

Morrigan snorted. “Innocence has no temptations for me, elf. Perhaps he would be better off transferring his attentions to you.”

Zev quirked an eyebrow, his eyes scanning Soris’s tall form. “I do not believe he would appreciate the suggestion. More’s the pity.”

“Long as neither of ya plans on snakin’ the little red-haired bronto,” Oghren said, “you can fight all ya want with yer big words.”

“Are they always like this?” Kylon asked quietly.

“Oh, yes. Always. At least now that you’ve come along they aren’t talking about me,” Judith said with heartfelt relief.

“Glad I could help,” he said, chuckling.

Shianni came toward them, looking disgruntled. Judith had seen the same look on Morrigan’s face many times after Judith had given the witch a gift.

“I, um, may owe you an apology,” she said, glaring at Soris over her shoulder. No question where the prodding to apologize had come from. “I thought you were just another worthless shem. Andraste’s ass, you’d think I could learn to take the help first and worry about where it comes from later. So, um, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Judith smiled. “Actually, you may be able to help us.”

“Yeah? How?” Shianni asked suspiciously.

“I’ve promised Ser Otto, the Templar, to help him look into rumors that there are maleficar in the Alienage.”

“Oh, so it is a witch hunt, is it?” Shianni’s green eyes hardened.

“By the Stone, bronto, you could let the woman finish a sentence!” Oghren shouted. Shianni glared at him, too, but when she looked back at Judith she looked less suspicious.

“It is not a witch hunt,” Judith said. “Ser Otto doesn’t think blood magic is the cause of the problem—but he does think something dark is going on here. I wondered if you agree, and if so, what you can tell me.”

“You either want something or you’re the nicest shem I’ve ever met,” Shianni grumbled. “If you’re looking for something wrong in the Alienage—and what sodding isn’t?—I’d start with the orphanage. I wasn’t … around much after the riots, but I hear some bad things happened there.” She gestured toward a young female elf standing near one of the buildings. “Check with her. She was in the orphanage when it all went down, and she sure acts like there was something messed up. Something messed her up, more to the point. Good luck getting a straight answer.”

Judith nodded her thanks to Shianni, walking over to the young elf. Daniel and Zev followed, but Oghren stopped to trade some more insults with Shianni, and Morrigan was waylaid by Soris. He put his hand on her arm, leaning toward her, and from the blankly petrified look on Morrigan’s face, Judith surmised the elf was offering her his thanks again … with a bit of something more romantic thrown in. Grinning, Judith left the witch to get herself out of that one. She went up to the young elf Shianni had pointed out. The girl’s dark hair was messy around her face, and her wide eyes stared over Judith’s shoulder at something that wasn’t there.

“Grandmother?” she whispered.

“Is your grandmother here?”

The elf started. “No. Grandmother is gone. She gave me her amulet but … Lost. Lost! In the orphanage.” Tears were rolling freely down the young elf’s cheeks.

“I’m sorry. Would you like me to look for it?” Judith asked gently.

“Lost! Lost! Bad men came. There was blood. Oh, the blood …” Her voice trailed off.

“Blood in the orphanage?”

“Blood in the orphanage,” wept the elf. “The poor dogs, driven mad. Oh, don’t go in there,” she said. Her gaze shifted to Judith’s for a moment, and Judith saw the terror that lived there.

“I’ll find your amulet,” she promised.

“Grandmother!” the young elf called as they walked away. 

“My friend, look there,” Zev said quietly, as they neared the orphanage. Judith could smell … something rotten, yes, and bad eggs, but underneath it something else, not human. She followed Zev’s pointing finger, and saw a dead dog lying at the edge of the alley, looking as though it had just been tossed there. It was decaying badly. And it rested in a pool of blood that reeked of sulphur. 

“Well,” Judith said, coughing, “I think we can safely tell Ser Otto that the trouble is in the orphanage.”

And so they did. The Templar nodded slowly. “Shall we go, then?”

“Ser Otto,” began Judith in dismay, “do you think—?”

“Judith Amell,” he said sternly, “I am a templar. Blind or not, defeating the evil that has settled here is my job, and I will go with you. Are we clear?”

“Yes, ser,” she said, but she shook her head in doubt. She caught Daniel’s eye, jerking her head toward the Templar, and he nodded. It might hobble their fighting force, having one man assigned to protect Ser Otto, but Judith was determined he wouldn’t be killed if she could help it. Morrigan had already rescued herself from Soris—without hurting the elf’s feelings too much, Judith hoped—but Oghren had to be dragged away from his spirited flirting session with Shianni. Judith would never have appreciated being compared to a shaved mabari in heat, but Shianni just swallowed the comment and started in on something even filthier. It was only by promising Oghren that he could have the night off that Judith got him away at all.

It was clear as soon as they entered that something had gone dreadfully wrong inside. The orphanage was trashed—piles of junk in every corner, the furniture smashed to bits, broken toys everywhere. As soon as the door had creaked open, Judith caught sight of a shadowy figure skipping through the room, and screams mingled with children crying to create a ghostly cacophony. Judith could barely hear herself think. As they walked through a room so destroyed its original use was completely obscured, a single child’s voice cut through the din, reciting a typically bloodthirsty children’s poem in a ringing little voice.

“Most eerie,” Morrigan said appreciatively.

“Glad you like it,” Judith snapped. “Maybe we could leave it just like this and sell tickets.”

“’Twould be most useful in convincing children to mind their parents,” the mage said, almost cheerfully.

Judith rolled her eyes, opening a door and stepping into a wide hallway. Suddenly all the noise stopped, leaving a silence that rang in their ears louder than the former clamor.

They passed two doors with heavy padlocks on them, the locks so rusted that Zev couldn’t pick them. Leliana probably could have, Judith thought in irritation. Sometimes Zev’s lack of ability with locks ground at her nerves. She hated to think she might be missing something. 

A little way down the hallway, Judith stepped into the middle of a rug without thinking, without stopping to wonder why a real rug was still lying on the floor looking undamaged when everything else in the place had been utterly destroyed, and both the locked doors flew open, emitting two packs of rabid, crazed mabari.

“Daniel! Ser Otto!” she cried immediately, whirling to make sure Daniel was covering the Templar. Ser Otto had his sword out and was fighting pretty well for a blind man. As she watched, he connected the sword with one of the mabari, doing enough damage to thoroughly rile the dog. Daniel stepped in, dispatching the dog with two quick strokes, but there were more mabari surrounding them, and Judith raised her arms, freezing the nearest of the hounds, then attacking them with Spellweaver, shattering two of them. 

Oghren’s hammer flailed about. He had less to worry about than the rest of them—his center of gravity was low enough that it would have been difficult for the dogs to pull him down and swarm him. Daniel was doing a good job of keeping himself between Ser Otto and the worst of the danger, while allowing the Templar to believe he was actively engaged in the battle. He must have had lots of practice with his worthless recruits, Judith thought in amusement.

Soon the dogs lay dead all around them. Judith thought of Sam and his ferocious loyalty, and wished there had been some way to save these dogs other than killing them. Of course, if they were imprinted on a demon, which wasn’t impossible, then there wouldn’t have been any way to save them. She gathered her group and opened the door at the end of the hallway.

A disembodied voice began to shout threats at them. Ser Otto took the lead this time. He walked unafraid into the room, his shoulders square, and began reciting the Chant of Light. “Come forth, spirit!” he called, his voice strong and the command in it undeniable.

The cries and screams from the other room rose again in response to his call. Judith could make out individual children’s voices calling for their mothers. Otto continued calling the demons to come forth, until finally they did. 

“At last!” Oghren shouted, his voice thinner than usual. Even the brash, fearless dwarf had been affected by this place, Judith thought. “Somethin’ to kill!” And he attacked.

It was almost too easy. They mowed down the demons like so much hay, until all that was left was the little piles of dust left behind all over the floor.

Otto stood in the middle of the room, a glowing smile on his face. “We have won, brothers and sisters!” Then he stopped, the smile fading, and he listened, turning his face toward a door at the other end of the room. Slowly the lines of sadness and worry settled themselves into his face again. “Won the battle,” he said softly. “There is more fighting ahead. There! In the next building.” He lifted a finger, pointing at the door.

“Of course there is,” Judith sighed.

“Surely you do not weary of battle, my friend?” Zev asked softly. “After all, you are a Grey Warden, are you not?” The words were sarcastic, but underneath them she could hear his own weariness and the warmth of his caring.

“Yes. Mighty Grey Warden, hear me roar,” she said in a horrible parody of Alistair. Even Morrigan cracked a smile.

Kylon reached a hand out, closing it over her leather-clad shoulder. The warmth of his touch sent renewed energy through her.

As they walked through the door, entering the next building, more ghostly voices called out. These were slightly different—not so many children, the cries more despairing and horrified and less sad and lost. The entire building was overrun with demons of all varieties. Never in numbers to do enough damage to be concerned about, but enough to slow their progress.

After fighting a pair of hunger demons in what looked like some kind of dining hall, they took a break for a quick refresher. Water, bits of beef jerky, enough time to sit down and rejuvenate. Judith sat next to Ser Otto, whose eyes studied her almost as intently as if he could see. “I have never fought at the side of a mage before,” he said quietly. “Although I have known many with great power. We were taught that it was dangerous to allow that power its full use, that a mage who met with success in battle would soon lead an uprising against the templars and the Chantry.”

“And thereby denied Ferelden—and the rest of Thedas, as well—a great fighting force,” Kylon said quietly. A flicker of pain crossed his features, and Judith knew he was thinking about his sister.

Otto nodded slowly. “Perhaps the Chantry has been wrong all this time. You, Judith, and you, my lady,” he looked in Morrigan’s direction, “are formidable fighters and fully deserving of the trust this nation has placed in you.”

Judith quietly put her hand over his, her eyes filling with tears. Morrigan flushed, looking away, but her eyes glittered strangely as well. Even the Witch of the Wilds was touched by the simple trust of the blind Templar.

They got up from their rest, moving deeper into the building. The very last room was a large and capacious library, filled with the tattered remnants of books. Wynne would be sick to see this, Judith thought idly. She herself was none too happy. Books were too precious a resource to see treated badly. She was trying to make out the title on the spine of the one nearest her when another disembodied voice burst menacingly out of the air, mocking Ser Otto as the Templar knelt, praying aloud for the protection of Andraste and the Maker.

The voice grew louder, calling out vile insults in a frenzy as Otto continued to calmly pray. A demon came forth, spewing flame from its mouth, and Ser Otto barely swayed back in time. Everyone else joined in the battle at that point, and it didn’t take long to take the demon out, not with six of them focused on it. 

Otto stood over the demon’s fallen body, spreading his arms wide. “The darkness is receding!” he said. “The Maker must have guided our hands to this—“ He broke off, a choked gurgle coming out of his mouth. He looked down toward his stomach in shock, and Judith couldn’t stifle the little shriek that burst from her as she saw the tines of a pitchfork protruding through the plate of his armor. She rushed forward as the Templar began to fall, sliding on her knees to catch him in her arms.

The whitened eyes looked up at her as his head lay in her lap, blood bubbling around his mouth.

“Ser Otto!” she cried out, trying to cast a healing spell, but the pitchfork must have been enchanted, because the spell simply wouldn’t reach him. 

Dimly behind her she could hear the clang of swords, the outraged shrieks of another demon, the steady chant of Morrigan’s voice, Daniel and Oghren crying out their screams. Part of her mind rested with interest on Daniel’s embrace of Oghren’s berserker style, but the rest of it was staring down at the man in her lap, willing him not to die. A teardrop fell on his face, and then another and another. “Do … not weep. Not … for me, Judith,” he gasped. “I go … to the Maker.” He coughed, blood spraying from his mouth, spattering her armor. His face brightened suddenly, as though his eyes saw something beautiful, and the whiteness in them brightened, until she saw again the blue she remembered. He looked up at her, seeing her, one last time, one hand feebly reaching up to her face. “May the Maker … watch over … you,” he gasped. And then he looked past her, and she could see glory in his face. “The gates of the City…” he panted, his words nearly inaudible, and he fell back into her lap. Weeping, Judith gently closed the eyes that would never see again, bending over the dead body of the man who had loved her as tenderly as any parent.

She didn’t know how much later it was that she felt the gentle touch on her hair, felt Daniel’s hands closing on her arms and lifting her up, as Zev eased Ser Otto’s head off her lap and onto the floor. She turned, clinging blindly to Daniel, sobbing, as he held her close.

Finally the tears eased, and Daniel led her from the room, the others holding the banter down for the moment. The sun had gone down while they were in the orphanage, and her eyes took a moment to adjust to the darkness. The Alienage seemed quiet and almost peaceful in the light of the moon. Judith disentangled herself from Daniel, walking up to the young elf they had spoken to before. She looked back at Judith through her tangles of black hair. Judith held out a worn amulet they had found in a chest.

“Is this your grandmother’s?” Judith asked, but she didn’t need to. The young elf’s face lit up, and she pushed her hair back to look at it more closely before reaching out, taking it reverently from Judith’s hands.

“Oh, yes,” she said, and there was renewed sanity in the eyes that met Judith’s. “Thank you!”

Judith nodded, pleased to have helped the girl, but she couldn’t smile. Otto’s eyes would haunt her for a long time. “Let’s go, please,” she said to her team. “I could use a rest.” Daniel’s arm found its way around her waist, and she leaned against his strength in relief as they exited the Alienage.


	32. Candor

Judith was hoping to be able to get some sleep once they got back to Eamon’s estate, but the moment they stepped inside Anora’s Orlesian maid came up and peremptorily demanded Judith’s presence in Eamon’s office, which the Queen had apparently commandeered again. “Really?” Judith asked. “Right now?” She ran a hand across her face. “I was hoping for a hot bath and some hot food, maybe some sleep, before Fereldan politics required my attention again.”

The maid looked down her nose at Judith—no easy feat, given that Judith was the taller of the two—and sneered. “Perhaps I should ask the Landsmeet to wait until you are properly fed and cared for. No doubt the nobles would be happy to, how you say, twiddle their thumbs while you pamper yourself.”

Too tired to come up with a snappy comeback, Judith merely waved at the elf. “Tell Her Majesty I’ll be there in a minute.”

Sniffing loudly, the maid turned her back on the group. 

“You were most accommodating. I would have had something to say about such an insult,” Morrigan said, but with less heat than usual. She was tired, too.

“Couldn’t think of anything,” Judith said. “No comeback was better than a lame one.”

“Very true,” said Zev absently, staring off after the maid, looking speculative.

“All right, well, at least you’re all off the clock. Oghren, if you’re going back to the Alienage, be back here in the morning in fighting condition. I don’t know what’s going to be happening, but I want you here if I need you.”

“Aye, Commander. I’ll be back. Nothin’ so invigoratin’ as a good ride on a buckin’ bronto,” grinned Oghren. He left the estate, trailing alcohol fumes after him.

“If that elf lets him anywhere near her, she deserves what she gets,” Kylon said.

“You would be surprised how successful he is, my friend,” Zev said. “I wish I knew his secret.”

“You have plenty of secrets of your own.” Judith glanced around the entry hall, hoping to see Alistair or Leliana, but neither of them seemed to be around. 

Morrigan was already gliding from the hallway, and Zev bowed now, in his courtly fashion. “I see you are well looked after, my lovely Warden. I believe I will be going now. I suddenly have a project to look after.”

Kylon watched him go. “Is he contemplating some kind of revenge on that maid?” he asked. “Because if he isn’t, I will.”

“Leave her to Zev. He’ll have fun bringing her down a peg, and I want you all to myself,” Judith said.

“I like the sound of that,” Kylon said huskily, “but isn’t the Queen waiting for you?”

Judith sighed. “Apparently so. Will you … you’ll still be here afterwards?”

He smiled. “I’m all yours, at least until tomorrow morning.”

“Good to know. Let me go get the Queen’s chat out of the way so I can take advantage of you.” She started off in the direction the maid had gone, then turned. “If there’s dinner and a hot bath waiting when I get back, it might be you getting to take advantage of me.”

“Your wish is my command, my lady.”

Still grinning, she went on up the ramp and headed for Eamon’s office. The Queen sat again in Eamon’s chair, leaning her head wearily back against it. 

“Your Majesty.”

“Grey Warden. Or may I call you Judith?”

“You might as well. No one else does.”

“I hear you’ve been quite busy in the Alienage.”

“Very.” Judith held the paper in the air. “I have here a contract, signed by your father and with his seal, agreeing to sell Fereldan elves into slavery in Tevinter.”

Anora shook her head, but evidenced no surprise. “I wondered if it was something like that. You took care of the slavers?”

“It’s what I do.” Without waiting to be invited, Judith sat.

“You understand, Judith, that his blindness stems from his love of Ferelden. He gave up a great deal for this nation. Nothing is more important to him than her safety.” Her blue eyes met Judith’s, pleading silently for the other woman to understand and not to condemn.

“How can Ferelden be considered safe with no King, when the citizens are so busy fighting amongst themselves that no one is paying attention to the darkspawn threat? Blood mages hired to poison Eamon, the Couslands murdered in Highever, Lothering completely destroyed by the Blight, elves being sold for gold to wage more war against Fereldan citizens. Those are not the decisions of a man who loves his country.” Let Anora get angry; Judith was tired of hearing excuses for the Hero of River Dane. She’d seen the results of his work, on the snow-covered battlefield at Ostagar, in the shambles of the Alienage, and among the walking dead at Redcliffe.

Anora sighed heavily. “I am aware that his judgement has been clouded. When the word ‘Orlais’ is mentioned, he loses all capacity for rational thought.” She paused, closing her eyes. “Before the rebellion, my father was a farmer. In many ways, he still is. Despite thirty years embroiled in the politics of running a teyrnir and a nation, he is still very much at sea. He relied on Rendon Howe much beyond what was wise.”

“And you, Your Majesty?” Judith was beyond being subtle or even nice. “You are the Queen! Your father was responsible for the death of the King—your husband—and you just let him waltz into Denerim and become regent, pushing you off your rightful place on the throne.”

“He’s my father!” Anora cried, her eyes filling with tears. “How can you suggest I should just go against my father? Could you?”

“I haven’t seen my father since I was eight years old,” Judith said evenly. “Mages are torn from their families, in case we should endanger our loved ones. I wouldn’t know my father if I ran into him in the street. So if you’re looking for sympathy on that count, you’re looking in the wrong place.”

Anora bit back an angry retort, her shoulders sagging. “That is a point I had never considered.”

“Perhaps you should.”

“After this is over, should I retain my position on the throne, we will talk of this again. I will do what I can to improve the lot of the mages. The Chantry is powerful, you understand. I can promise nothing. But I can try.”

“Thank you.” The two women looked at each other for a moment, their emotions calming somewhat. Judith sighed. “Your Majesty, I have fought many battles today. I’m starving, exhausted, and not feeling very patient. Can we get on to what you called me here for?”

“Yes.” Anora sat up straight, looking businesslike. “The Landsmeet is ready to assemble. You have the proof of my father’s … mistakes, and with that, and the Blight, you are likely to have the vote. In which case my father will probably challenge you to a duel—he is not one to back down when he feels he is doing the right thing—and one of you, or Alistair possibly, will die. I would like to avoid that.”

“Then why aren’t you talking to him?”

“Because he pats me on the head and tells me to run along and buy a new dress!” Anora cried out in frustration. “Cailan was a giant boy, all enthusiasm and impetuosity, but he treated me like a person, and left much of the kingdom in my hands. My father doesn’t even let me order my own meals.”

“I see. So rather than face your father, you’ve decided to go around him. Very political.”

“You don’t approve.”

“I have learned to battle in the months since I was given to the Grey Wardens, and I appreciate being able to see my opponent. Besides, don’t you have to face him down at some point? Don’t you want him to understand what he did—not just to the nation, but to you personally—by leaving Cailan to die on the battlefield?” Judith leaned forward, her voice intense. “He wasn’t even cared for, Anora. No one went back to retrieve the King’s body—no one—and the darkspawn … hung him up. They made a joke of Cailan Theirin, King of Ferelden. It’s one of the most horrific things I’ve ever seen, and trust me, that’s saying a lot.”

Anora’s eyes filled with tears, and for a moment Judith regretted telling her. But she had to know, and no one else was going to tell her. “I loved Cailan, you know? He was … impossible to take seriously, but he balanced me. But my father needs me. I’m all he has left.”

Judith shook her head. “You are going to have to decide where you stand before you and I can discuss anything. The time for dancing a fine line is over.” She stood up. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need badly to eat and sleep. Give me until noon tomorrow to have some necessary discussions, and come back with your mind made up.”

“No one else in Ferelden would dare to give orders to the Queen,” Anora said, a touch coolly.

“Well, Your Majesty, since Ostagar I’ve saved the mages of the Tower, healed a curse that was tainting the whole Brecilian forest, put a King on the throne of Orzammar, found the Sacred Ashes of Andraste, and driven the Tevinters from the Alienage. During that time, you’ve managed to sit here under your father’s thumb accomplishing exactly … nothing. I think if either of us has earned the right to give orders, that person is probably me.”

Anora stood up, her blue eyes sparking. “What do you want, a medal?”

“Respect will do. And not to be summoned into your presence like a serf. Like it or not, Anora, I’m the only reason you have a kingdom left.”

“And they wonder why we try and keep the mages down.”

“Yes, because we’re useful and manage to get things done,” Judith snapped. 

Surprisingly, Anora burst out laughing. “Touché. You’re stubborn and insubordinate, but you make me actually believe we can unite the nation and end the Blight.” She inclined her head. “Good-night, Judith. I will be here tomorrow with my mind made up.”

“Thank you,” Judith said. She walked out of the office thinking there was a better than average chance Anora would throw her in Fort Drakon for that little outburst—but it had been worth it.


	33. Comfort

Judith didn’t get very far, though. On her way from his office to her own room, she ran into Eamon, skulking in the hallway, obviously waiting for her. “Ah, Judith, my dear. I heard you were back from the Alienage. Have you spoken with the Queen?”

“I’ve just come from my meeting with her.”

“May I ask what she wanted to talk about?”

“I think she wanted to know what I found in the Alienage, and she hoped to convince me to somehow let her father off the hook.” Judith stared at Eamon impatiently, waiting for him to get to the point so she could go back to her room.

“What did you find?”

“Proof that Loghain sold the Alienage elves to the Tevinters.”

“Proof?!”

“I have a contract he signed.”

Eamon sighed. “I wish I could say I was surprised, but he’s become so different recently.” His tone sounded regretful, but his eyes glittered. Judith thought he seemed rather pleased that the only living Teyrn in Ferelden was going down in flames. And why wouldn’t he be? With the Couslands wiped out, Loghain no longer a threat, and Alistair essentially under his thumb, Eamon suddenly found himself the most powerful person in Fereldan politics. He reached out a hand toward her. “Would you like me to hold onto that letter? I can keep it safe until we reach the Landsmeet.”

“I can do that as well,” Judith said. “I’ll hang onto it, if you don’t mind.”

He looked for a moment as though he was going to protest, but thought better of it. “Very well. Did you agree to Anora’s request to let Loghain get away with it?”

“There have been no agreements. I told her unless she was willing to stand up to her father, I wasn’t interested in talking to her.”

Eamon gasped in shock. “You said that to the Queen?”

“I did. Because a Queen who can’t stand up to her own father won’t be left on the throne,” Judith said, her eyes steely on the older man’s. “Given the choice of being King alone or being King with Anora … well, I doubt Alistair will care too much which occurs.”

“Anora is not an enemy to make lightly.”

“It was worth the risk. Without her support, we’ll have problems at the Landsmeet, but they’ll be even worse if we accept her support and then she turns on us because she’s too cowed by her father to go against him in public. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I believe a long rest and a good meal are necessary before tomorrow’s events.” 

“Of course.” Eamon stood aside with a courtly bow. He stood in the hallway watching her go.

“Finally,” Judith sighed, reaching her door. She opened it to find a naked man reclining in a large tub full of steaming water. “Well, that’s not fair,” she said.

Daniel opened his eyes and grinned at her. “Which part?”

“That bath was supposed to be waiting for me, for one thing,” she said. “You’re lucky I don’t heat that water up a bit more.”

“If you did that, you’d ruin any chance of getting lucky yourself,” he chuckled, standing up. “I didn’t want the water to get cold.”

“You were keeping it warm for me?” she asked, eyeing his dripping body. He was certainly warming her up in a hurry.

“Nice of me, wasn’t it?” he asked, wrapping a towel around his waist. “Now, off with the armor.”

“Getting awfully bossy,” she grumbled, but since the leather was starting to smell a bit from all the blood spattered on it, she didn’t feel like arguing too much. She started unbuckling, sighing in relief as the restrictive apparel came off. “Say what you will about mage robes,” she said, “but they’re a lot more comfortable than this stuff.”

“They don’t stop a sharp blade, though,” he said, picking up her breastplate and poking his finger into a gash running along the back.

“That they don’t.” She dropped the leather skirt onto the floor. “Armor off, as ordered. Now what?”

“Into the tub,” he said. “Let’s get some of that gore off you.”

“Yes, ser.” She sank down into the water, which was nowhere near warm enough. Closing her eyes, she dipped her fingers into the water, shooting a jet of flame into it until the water was heated to her satisfaction.

Daniel’s eyes widened as he watched this procedure. “Well, that’s a handy trick.”

“Literally,” she grinned. “Especially when you like very hot baths.” Judith could feel the heat of the water soothing her muscles already, and she lay back in the tub. “Any further plans?”

Without answering in words, he knelt behind her, removing the pins from her hair, letting it down to fall around her shoulders. He poured a little of the water over her head. Then he took a large soapy sponge, squeezing some of the suds out onto her head, his fingers gently massaging her scalp. It felt heavenly. Carefully he rinsed the soap out of her hair. Moving around to the side of the tub, he took the sponge and ran it slowly over her body.

What had started as a soothing experience soon became anything but. Judith gasped and moaned as he soaped and rinsed her body, his fingers caressing her. When she was clean, he helped her stand, toweling her off gently as she trembled. Then Daniel lifted her in his arms, carrying her to the bed. They stretched out together, their legs entwining. Judith stroked his hair back, pulling him close and kissing him. Without breaking the kiss he entered her, and they took their pleasure together slowly, making it last until they could hold out no longer.

The peaceful quiet of the aftermath was broken after a few minutes by the loud rumble of Judith’s stomach. “Next on the agenda,” she laughed. “This was a bit of a departure from the plan.”

“Sorry. I got carried away.” 

“I’ll say.”

“Fortunately dinner was cold to start with,” he said, gesturing to a tray full of sandwiches, fruit, and cheese.

Judith bit into a turkey sandwich, swallowing the first bite nearly whole and then taking the rest of the sandwich out rapidly. “Some day,” she said, “I’m going to live in a place where you get three hot meals every day.” She chuckled. “Of course, that might be tomorrow. How’s the food in Fort Drakon?”

“Why?” She explained about her meeting with Anora. Daniel shook his head, honestly shocked. “That was quite a gamble.”

“Yes, but if it pays off, it will be well worth it. And if it doesn’t?” She shrugged. “Better to know how far she can be pushed now than to find out after she’s married to Alistair.”

“Will he do it?”

Judith shook her head, worried. “I don’t know,” she said. “I haven’t seen him since we got back. I’ll have to go looking for him in the morning.” She finished the last of her second sandwich and picked up an orange. As she peeled it, she looked over at Daniel. “What do you think about all this? You’ve been here in Denerim, you must have an opinion.”

“About what? The Queen?”

“Sure. Should she stay on the throne? Should she marry Alistair? Should I make Alistair very, very happy and tell him he’s off the hook, and let Anora rule on her own?”

“You don’t want much,” he said. Judith threw a grape at him. “All right, all right,” he said, dodging. “Queen Anora’s been good for the nation. Cailan was … would have been a good general. But the day-to-day with the Bannorn and the economics and all? Not his style. Anora stepped in and took all that over for him. She did a good job. I wouldn’t hold the fact that she can’t stand up to her father against her. Families make people strange sometimes.” He took a bite of a chunk of Nevarran cheese. “As for Alistair … well, unless there’s more to him than I’ve seen, she’ll eat him for breakfast. He’ll go in with all his idealism blazing and find himself blocked quietly but effectively at every turn. I don’t think he has the strength to stand up to her, or the cunning to circumvent her.”

Judith blinked in surprise. “Well, I asked for your opinion.”

“And you got it,” he said. “Not what you wanted to hear?”

“No, not really. But sort of? I have a lot of thinking to do before the Landsmeet.”

He looked uncomfortable. “You’ll have some extra time—I’m still planning to get back to my duties tomorrow.”

“I was hoping that fighting with my team today would convince you that we need you in the fight against the Blight.”

“On the contrary,” he said seriously, “I’m convinced that you don’t need me half as much as the Guards do.”

“The team might not … but I do.”

“I’m not leaving you,” he said. “Just going back to my job.”

“Is there nothing I can say to convince you?”

“No.” He shook his head. “I know where my duty lies.”

Judith popped several grapes in her mouth to keep herself from talking. What she really wanted to say was that she was afraid something would happen to him without her. But of course, she could hardly admit to that, could she? “All right,” she said. “I won’t fight with you.”

“Glad to hear it,” he said, setting his plate aside. “Fighting is much less interesting than what I had in mind, anyway.”


	34. Duties

The next morning came entirely too soon. Kylon climbed out of bed, searching for his clothes and armor. Judith squirmed into the warm spot he had left, grumbling sleepily.

“Not a morning person, I see,” he teased.

She pulled the covers back over her head. “Is it morning already? What happened to night?”

“Well, there was the fighting, the Queen, and then … need I remind you?”

One blue eye peeked out from under the rumpled covers. “Please,” she said. “Come over here and remind me. I’ll keep you here all day and maybe you’ll forget about this whole going back to work thing.”

Kylon grinned at her. “Tempting,” he said. “But I believe you have a Landsmeet to upset.”

“Sodding nobles,” Judith complained, pushing the covers back and sitting up. “Ruin everything.”

“You’re starting to sound like Oghren. You might want to work on that.” He buckled on the last of his armor, leaning over for a kiss. “I will see you tonight. Try not to get thrown in jail, will you?”

“If I do, will you break me out?”

“Count on it.”

Leaving the palace, Kylon meandered through Denerim, breathing in the smells and sounds of his city. Wagons rumbled past, vendors hawked their wares, and the scent of wet dog was everywhere. He made his way to the barracks. His desk was untouched, dust gathering on the piles of papers, the flyer with Judith’s portrait still tacked to the wall. He touched the paper, thinking back to the day he’d first seen that flyer, how her face, poorly drawn as it was, had captivated him immediately. Little had he known that the rest of her was equally captivating, or that she would learn to care for him, as well. He couldn’t restrain the grin that spread across his face.

Bringing himself back to his duties with some difficulty, he reported to his captain’s office. 

“Ah, Sergeant,” Colonel Rollins said, looking up from the desk as Kylon came in. The Colonel was a grizzled old soldier, a veteran of the rebellion. “I heard you had a spot of trouble.”

“Yes, ser. Where’s Captain Franck?”

“We’ll get to that. First, I have some interesting news for you. It just came in day before yesterday. You are no longer a Sergeant.”

“Ser?”

“You’ve been promoted. To Captain.” 

“Did something happen to Captain Franck?”

“Yes, well, poor sod, some of the girls of the, ah, Pearl, didn’t like the extra … fees he was imposing. Most of him was found in the harbor.”

“Most, ser?”

“Missing a few choice bits, if you will.” Both men winced. “Yes, best to stay on Sanga’s good side. So. You’re in command of the Guards. Get them in shape, will you, man? The current state of affairs is humiliating! If the darkspawn get this far, Denerim may well be wiped out.”

“Are the darkspawn coming this way?”

“I don’t bloody know! Nobody does. Teyrn Loghain and your girlfriend seem to spend all their time figuring out ways to take each other down. I’d be willing to bet neither of them knows where the horde is right now.”

Kylon thought about that. No, Judith didn’t seem to be aware of the location of the darkspawn. Or, at least, she hadn’t mentioned anything about it to him. “So we’d best get training,” he said. “Can we recruit, as well? Get some better stock? You’d think with all the refugees coming into town, one or two would be able to hold a sword.”

The Colonel lifted a roll of vellum. “Here’s the muster sheets, lad. Let’s give it a look-see.”

They studied muster sheets and went over training regimens for a couple of hours until both were satisfied they had a game plan. Rollins clapped Kylon on the shoulder. “Good to have you back, Serg—Captain. That might take some getting used to.”

“Yes, ser.” 

“Get some lunch,” Rollins suggested. “Try the Pearl. Sanga’s still riled up over Franck, the idiot. See if you can get her to calm down, will you?”

Kylon strolled through the alleys on the way to the Pearl, senses alert to the tenor of the city. Business was going on as usual, but there was an air of urgency that was not typical. Ships were being loaded and unloaded with unprecedented haste at the docks, as if the captains were all anxious to be on their way. The streets were filled with beggars, most claiming to be refugees from the south. If they were all here, Kylon thought uneasily, what was left to attack elsewhere? He made a mental note to ask Judith about that later, where they expected the main body with the Archdemon to be headed.

Arriving at the Pearl, he was surprised to have several of the workers, male and female, walk up to kiss his cheek and wish him a hearty “welcome back”. Sanga even came out from behind the counter to greet him. “Sergeant!” she said. 

“Apparently it’s Captain now,” he said, blushing slightly.

“Congratulations!” she said. “Please, sit. Meat pie, yes? On the house.”

“On the house?” That was unheard of. “What can I do for you, Sanga?”

“Well, there is the little matter of you not being Captain Franck. For which we are most grateful. In addition, you will tell me—should we be leaving?”

“Leaving?”

“Leaving Denerim. Are the darkspawn coming here? Will the Grey Wardens be able to end the Blight?”

“Ah,” he said, as the meat pie was set in front of him, its spicy scent causing his stomach to rumble. “I don’t think there’s any need to flee at this point, but I understand no one quite knows where the darkspawn are headed. And I’m sure the Grey Wardens will be able to end the Blight.” He grinned slightly around his first bite, but the smile faded as he remembered Riordan’s words, that a Grey Warden had to die for the Archdemon to be defeated. What if that Grey Warden was Judith? For a moment he wished that she were another kind of person, that she were someone he could protect. But then she wouldn’t be the strong woman he had fallen in love with. 

Sighing, he took a deep drink of the cider Sanga brought him. He had enough to do, whipping these Guards into shape, without worrying about tasks that weren’t yet upon them.

As he sat there, scraping up the last bits of flaky crust, he heard a commotion upstairs, a hysterical woman screaming curses in Orlesian. “Where is that elf?!” he made out in the midst of a string of obscenities. “The blond one, marked like the Dalish. He took my clothes!”

Kylon turned in his seat, thinking he’d heard that voice somewhere, and saw an elven woman wrapped in a bedsheet come stomping downstairs. Her black hair was mussed, her makeup smeared, and she was shrieking at the top of her lungs, blaming Sanga for the loss of her clothes. He couldn’t prevent the grin that spread itself across his face, and he made a mental note to buy Zev a drink next time he had the opportunity.

She stopped in front of Kylon, staring at him. “You! Tell them who I am. You were there yesterday. You must explain—I am the Queen’s lady-in-waiting. I must not be treated this way!”

Wiping the smirk off his face with difficulty, he said, “You must have the wrong person. I’m afraid I don’t know who you are. But if you don’t keep your voice down, I’ll be forced to take you in for disturbing the peace.”

She stared at him for a moment, her eyes blazing fiercely, then erupted in a flow of profanity. Still cursing, she gathered the sheet around herself and swept out of the building, trying to look regal in the bedsheet and failing miserably.

Sanga watched the elf go, grinning. “You may tell Zevran,” she said quietly to Kylon, “that I owe him one. That is the most insufferable woman in all of Denerim.”


	35. Fereldans

Once Kylon had left, Judith finished getting dressed. She chose the comparatively modest set of drakeskin armor Master Wade had made for her. The soft blue leather hugged her body but wasn’t quite as revealing—or battle-damaged—as the Dalish-style set. Or as obvious a reminder of her mage status as her robes.

She twisted her hair into its usual knot, scavenged the last of the fruit and cheese off of the previous night’s dinner tray, and headed out into the hallway, hoping to find Alistair quickly. Instead, she nearly ran Riordan over as she turned a corner. 

“Sorry,” she said breathlessly, stepping back. “I really need to learn to look where I’m going.”

“It is no trouble, being run into by a woman such as yourself,” he said, bowing slightly. Fereldan by birth he may be, she thought, but his manners were pure Orlesian.

When he made no move to go, but simply stood there, looking at her, she sighed. Of course her day wasn’t going to go as planned. “There seems to be something on your mind, Riordan.”

“We have a few things that should be discussed, yes,” he said. 

“Should we have Alistair along for these? Are they Grey Warden business?”

He shrugged. “Not entirely, no. It is you who appear to be in charge of the plan for defeating the Archdemon, is it not?”

“That does appear to be the case,” she said. “What’s on your mind?”

“It seems to me, since you are embroiled in the politics of the nation, that I should scout ahead and listen for the bulk of the horde, while you remain here and make certain there is a Ferelden left to save, eh? Then we will meet at Redcliffe.”

“Why Redcliffe?”

“It is the closest large settlement to the horde. I do not think they have the cohesiveness or the leadership to travel too far afield.” He smiled, his white teeth flashing. “They are darkspawn, after all, no?”

“Sounds reasonable,” she admitted after a moment’s thought. “All right, then. Do you need anything before you set out on your scouting mission? I’m sure Arl Eamon won’t mind you stocking up before you leave.”

“I will speak with him when I am ready to go.” He hesitated, then said, “There is one more thing I wanted to mention to you, sister.”

“Which is?” What was with these people catching her in the hallway to talk about things? Couldn’t anyone ever say ‘I see you’re busy, let’s talk later’? Judith tried to hold on to her temper, waiting for Riordan to speak up. 

“This may be a bit delicate.”

“I don’t think there’s a lot of time for delicacy, Riordan. Whatever it is, please, just blurt it out.”

“As you wish, sister.” He bowed slightly, one arm clasped across his chest. “It is my understanding that you have begun a relationship with a member of the city guard. Is this correct?” Judith nodded, one eyebrow raised. “If it is what you both wish, there is a possibility he could be made a Grey Warden.”

Judith’s brain felt frozen. Daniel a Grey Warden? She’d never considered the possibility. She didn’t even know how to do that. Automatically, she said, “We don’t know the Joining ritual.”

“I do.” Riordan studied her for a moment, then said quietly, “I will be leaving late this afternoon. If he wishes to undergo the ritual, find me before then.” He bowed again and went past her, toward Arl Eamon’s study. Judith stood in the hallway for a long moment, unable to get her mind to work through that idea. At length she sighed, shaking herself, and continued down the hallway, still looking for Alistair.

She found him in the last place anyone else would expect, but the first place she’d looked. Sitting in the small Chantry chapel, hands clasped, staring up at the statue of Andraste. He didn’t look up as she came in.

Judith took a seat next to Alistair, bumping his shoulder with her own. “You know I can’t give you any more time,” she said quietly.

“I know.”

“How did it go with Leliana?”

“Better than expected,” he said, but Judith could see the shiny trails of tears down his cheeks. 

“And?”

“And what do you want from me?” he shouted suddenly, standing up. “The woman I love said I’m free to marry someone I despise. So that’s just peachy, right? Everybody happy now? Everybody but Alistair, of course, but when has that ever mattered to anyone?”

“What do you want from me?” Judith said. “I’m trying to hold an entire nation together. Do you know what Loghain was doing? He was selling the elves. Selling them, Alistair! How can we let someone like that stay in power? How can we allow his daughter to remain in power unchecked? We’ve spent all this time enforcing these treaties, asking the dwarves, the mages, the elves to help fight for a nation that treats them all … horribly, to be honest. How can we ask them to fight without also promising that the Ferelden they save will be a true home to them? Do you think Anora will do that? Because I don’t.” She stood up, gripping his shoulders and looking into his eyes. “You are closer to me than any family I’ve ever had, Alistair. It hurts me to make you do something I know will make you unhappy. But we are Fereldans, and I must ask you to do this.”

Alistair swallowed hard, closing his eyes. “You’re right. I know you’re right. But …”

“I know.” She threw her arms around him, holding him close, feeling the big body shake against her as he tried to hold in more tears. “Anora knows how to run a country. How to handle money, how to deal with people from other nations, how to make decisions. But you know how to rule your people. Who knows that better? You’ve been amongst them your whole life—at Redcliffe, in the Chantry, in the Forest, in Orzammar, at the Circle, in Lothering. You’ve worked and fought at the side of the common people of this nation, as one of them. If anyone can unite them, it’s you.”

He took a deep breath, shuddering, and stepped back. “You make a convincing point,” he said. He ran his hands over his face and through his hair. “All right, where’s this Landsmeet, then?”

“Alistair, there’s one more thing.”

“Oh, I always like to hear that,” he said, sounding more like himself. “What?”

“It’s just … How do I say this? You are a sweetheart. Idealistic, kind … trusting. Anora is going to chew you up and spit you out.”

“Um, thanks? So let me get this straight: you’re telling me that I’m needed to unite the nation, but I won’t be able to because I’m a squashy cream cake, albeit with very firm muscles.”

“I’m saying the rest of you has to be as firm as the muscles,” she said, grinning. Alistair was extremely proud of his physique. And rightly so, she had to admit. “I would ask if you can, but there’s really no choice. You have to be stronger, smarter, and faster than she is. Starting pretty much now.”

“But no pressure,” he murmured. “None at all. So what now?”

“We’re meeting with Anora. Ready?”

“Right. What do you think?”

Judith got up and went to the door of the chapel. She pulled it open and found a giant slab of silverite pointed directly at her. The hard dark eyes of the woman wielding the sword glared at her over its gleam.

“Going somewhere, mage?” Ser Cauthrien said.


	36. Alistair

“Ser Cauthrien.” Judith said, trying to remain calm. She could hear the shuffling of feet in the hallway. Apparently Cauthrien wasn’t alone, and had caught both Grey Wardens unarmed. Judith squeezed Alistair’s arm, and he hastily looked around for something they could use as a weapon. “Is the Queen ready for our meeting?”

“Meeting?” Cauthrien faltered for a moment, blinking in confusion. “I know of no meeting,” she said at last, her voice growing stronger. “I know only that you will be a thorn in my Lord’s side no more. Will you come peacefully, or will I be forced to kill you?”

“I’m not trying to be a thorn in anyone’s side,” Judith said. “I’m just trying to unite the country so we can defeat the Blight. And make no mistake, Cauthrien—the Blight is here. The Archdemon is coming. Ferelden is being eaten up from the inside out by the darkspawn while we sit here squabbling.”

“So you say.”

“So I say? Cauthrien, look around! Why do you think Denerim is filled with refugees? What do you think they’re fleeing from? The might of two Grey Wardens pretending there’s a Blight?”

“We are impressive, aren’t we?” Alistair murmured quietly.

“We’re not that impressive,” Judith snapped. 

“Your words are … persuasive,” Cauthrien said, the sword point wavering. Then her grip firmed again. “Back, mage! You must be some kind of maleficar, to get into my mind that way. I will listen to no more of your lies!”

Judith threw her hands up in the air. She stepped back, looking at Alistair. “Now’s the time,” she said quietly. “Your first test. Get us out of here without having to fight and be killed.”

He cast a sidelong look at Cauthrien. “But she’s a fanatic on the subject of Loghain! How will I—?”

“I don’t know,” Judith said. “But you have to, because she won’t believe a word I say. And if we try to fight her and her men armed only with that,” she gestured at the large metal candle-stick Alistair was holding, “they’ll be taking us out of here in pieces.”

Alistair handed the candle-stick to Judith. Taking a deep breath to prepare himself, he stepped forward until the point of Cauthrien’s sword was brushing his chest. He didn’t lack for physical courage, Judith thought. If this could help build up his confidence—and he didn’t get them both killed—he had the potential to be a very good king.

“Ser Cauthrien,” Alistair began quietly. “You were there. At Ostagar. I saw you accompanying Loghain. You saw what happened; you were closer than anyone. I ask you, one warrior to another, did you agree with the decision to withdraw your troops and leave the King’s army on the field unsupported?”

“It was my Lord’s decision!” Cauthrien said hotly.

“But did you agree with it?”

“I— It’s not my place to comment on my Lord’s decisions!”

“If not yours, then whose? You’re closer to him than anyone in the world—you probably know more about him than his daughter,” Alistair said. “Do you truly support the decision to abandon the King on the battlefield?”

“Cailan’s death served Ferelden!” Cauthrien cried. “He was a weak King! My Lord is strong.”

“So Cailan’s death was deliberate?” Judith saw a muscle twitch and tighten in Alistair’s jaw, but he kept his voice soft. The sword point had dropped a bit, poking now into his stomach.

Cauthrien swallowed hard. “My Lord may have betrayed Cailan,” she said with difficulty, “but it was only to serve Ferelden! To keep us from allying with Orlais and being overrun again. With Cailan’s death, the nation should have rallied, come together. Instead we have this … division. Because of you!” she shouted, raising the sword again.

Alistair sighed, ignoring the sword completely. “I woke up one morning in a hut in the Wilds,” he said, “knowing that everyone I called ‘brother’ was dead, and I was being hunted as a traitor by the man whose troops were supposed to save them all. And you think somehow my companion and I are the ones who caused the division? We’ve been doing our best to collect troops to face the Blight. Fereldan troops! Fereldan elves, Fereldan mages, the dwarves of … well, of Orzammar, but that’s practically Ferelden. We’ve done everything we can to bring the people of this nation together. And while we’ve been fighting darkspawn and demons, Loghain’s been fighting us. You know that as well as I do!” He pushed the sword point aside and stepped closer to Cauthrien. “You know he made the wrong decision at Ostagar and has been paralyzed with fear and guilt ever since. Admit it!” he said to her, urgently. 

Cauthrien stared up at him, her eyes wide and her lips parted. Judith could see the shine of tears in her eyes. “I tried to stop him,” Cauthrien said in a small voice. “H-he struck me. And I … did as I was told.” Her face crumpled, and the tears fell freely. “I’m sorry … for all that you lost. And for my part in it.”

Alistair looked down at her, and Judith thought already she could see new lines in his face. That had been hard for him on so many levels. “Help us finish this. So no one else has to suffer for his mistake,” he said softly.

She stepped aside, the sword point scraping along the stone floor of the hallway. “Please. Be merciful.”

Judith kept silent, watching Alistair. His mouth tightened. “I will consider it,” he said at last, grudgingly. He looked and sounded almost regal. “But remember … he showed no mercy to those he left behind. And neither did the darkspawn. You didn’t see what they did to Cailan’s body after Ostagar. I did.” He walked out of the room, sparing Cauthrien no further glance as she stood there, head bowed and sword drooping, her men silent and unmoving behind her. Judith followed Alistair, for once feeling as he must have so often—as the disregarded backup of the acknowledged leader. She couldn’t have been more proud.


	37. Disagreement

When they were far enough from the chapel that Cauthrien could no longer see or hear them, Alistair grabbed Judith’s arm, dragging her into the nearest room and slamming the door behind them. He collapsed against the door, his legs trembling.

“Do you have any idea how hard that was?”

Smiling, Judith shook her head. “Probably not. But you did it superbly.”

He let out his breath. “I find that hard to believe.”

“We’re still alive,” she pointed out.

“If you say so.” He slid down the door into a sitting position. “Do I have a moment to sit here and twitch?”

“Maybe a moment,” she said, smiling at him. Unbidden, her mind went back to Riordan’s suggestion. Daniel as a Grey Warden? Daniel undergoing the Joining, quite possibly dying? Daniel doomed to 30 years of life with tainted blood and a shadowy Calling ahead where Maker knew what might happen to him? Judith shuddered at the thought. No, if it were up to her, there would be no Joining for Daniel. But could she deny him the choice? Wasn’t it her obligation to offer it to him? Where she saw a death sentence, others saw honor and glory. She saw Cailan in her mind’s eye. Of course, honor and glory had been Cailan’s death sentence. She shook herself to clear the thoughts from her head, looking back at Alistair. Suddenly several pieces fell into place in her brain. “Alistair.”

“Yeess?”

“Riordan stopped me in the hall earlier. He’s leaving later to find the horde, and will meet us at Redcliffe.”

“Got it.”

“He also said he knows how to do the Joining ritual. He suggested we make Daniel a Grey Warden.”

Alistair looked at her for a moment. “You don’t seem thrilled by the idea.”

“I’m not.”

“He’d be a good addition, though. He’s a strong fighter and a good man.”

“I appreciate your approval, but really I don’t want to talk about that. The idea … I can’t—well, I had a thought.” She paused, dreading the inevitable reaction, but someone else would bring it up if she didn’t, and the result would be a win, no matter what. “Um, Loghain …” she said, letting the name hanging in the air.

There was a pause, then Alistair’s eyes widened and he scrambled to his feet. “No. No, no, no, no, no.”

“I see you followed my thought.”

“Yes, and now I feel dirty. Do you understand what it is that you’re suggesting?”

“I’m suggesting that if we make Loghain a Grey Warden, he can be very useful.”

“USEFUL?” Alistair thundered. “You are talking about the man who murdered every Grey Warden in Ferelden, or tried his best to. And now you want me to give him the honor of joining their ranks, to call him brother? NO.”

“Duncan would say that in a Blight, the Grey Wardens take whatever aid is available, regardless of their past history.”

“Duncan is dead, and that man killed him. I’ll tell you what,” Alistair said, looming over her. “Let’s go drag Uldred out of the Fade and make him a Grey Warden. How would you like to fight at his side, after what he did to your friends from the Tower?”

“I see your point, but—“

“No buts. You want me to be stronger? I’m starting right now. This is not going to happen.”

“You’re about to marry his daughter. How will Anora feel about you if you kill her father?”

“You leave Anora to me.”

“Big words,” Judith said, but she had to appreciate the sudden force he was displaying. “Alistair, Loghain might die in the Joining.”

“Or he might live and we’d have to fight at his side. Definitely not. Could you trust him to have your back in battle?”

“Well … no, maybe not. But he could kill the Archdemon. So that neither of us would have to die!”

“And then the Hero of River Dane becomes the Hero of Ferelden? No, thank you. I will not let him be martyred. He’s a traitor to the Crown and he must and will be executed.”

“You’re sure I can’t convince you?”

“I’ve followed you all this way, and I’ve abided by your decisions. I’ve been happy to do it; you’ve been a good leader. But this I will not stand for. Do you understand?”

Judith looked up at him, then nodded slowly. “I understand. I sympathize. And I’ll hold you to your promise—if you expect me to put you on the throne and make sure Loghain is killed, you will have to deal with Anora.”

“Done.” Shaking his head, Alistair left the room, his back bristling with affront. Judith shrugged. It had been a good idea, she thought, but if she didn’t want to conscript Kylon for her own reasons, she had to allow Alistair to have a say for his. She was glad she’d mentioned it now, though—she could only imagine the scene he’d have made if she’d brought it up in the Landsmeet! As she followed him down the hallway, she reflected that while she might not have convinced him to put Loghain through the Joining, the mere suggestion had made being King and marrying Anora sound like a good idea in comparison. A successful conversation, if she did say so herself.

In the entryway, they met the assembled company. Judith pulled Zev aside, whispering to him for a moment, and he left the building, moving quickly. 

Leliana stood off to the side, her head bowed. Judith walked up to her friend. “How are you?” she said softly.

The bard shrugged. “I am used to … endings. I did not expect this one to be so difficult. But he …”

“Grows on you,” Judith finished. “I’m sorry this had to happen, you know that. But we need him on that throne.”

“I know.” Leliana squeezed Judith’s arm. “I shall be fine. Give me some time, please. And … do not make me attend the Landsmeet?”

“Of course.” Judith returned the squeeze. As she turned away from Leliana, the doors opened. The Queen entered, walking in her little steps, with her retinue of guards around her. She and Judith met in the middle of the entryway. “Your Majesty?” Judith asked. “What is your decision?”

Anora took a deep breath. “I will never be the Queen I deserve—that this nation deserves—if I continue to bow down to my father. I will accompany you to the Landsmeet to lend my support.”

Judith smiled. “Excellent.” She turned to look at the others. “Alistair and I will go, representing human and mage. Oghren will come along—on your best behavior, my friend. You represent the dwarves.” Oghren bowed, looking uncharacteristically serious. “And … someone else who should be joining us when we get there. Arl Eamon will meet us there, as well. The plan,” Judith continued, “is that we go in representing a Ferelden for all citizens. United under Alistair and Anora as monarchs.” She looked at the two of them, standing there side by side. “I like it, actually. The granddaughter of a farmer, achieving Ferelden’s highest office, next to the son of a King, raised as stableboy and Templar. They match nicely.”

Anora glanced speculatively at Alistair, who nodded. Only those who knew him best could see the reddening of his cheekbones. 

“Shall we, then?” Judith said. She led the way with Oghren. 

Alistair bowed over Anora’s hand. “Your Majesty, I understand we’re to be married. I do hope you’ll be gentle with me. It’s my first time.” He gave her one of his trademark grins, and Anora smiled at him. He tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow.

As they walked off together, Leliana stood watching them, a sad but proud smile curving her soft lips. She felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You have taught him well, my dear,” Wynne said quietly. “He is equipped for what is to come because of the time you had together.”

Leliana put her hand over Wynne’s. “Yes,” she said. “I will take comfort in that."


	38. Reconnaissance

Feeling pleasantly full, Kylon left the Pearl after his free lunch. The recruits spent a lot of time speculating about how to get something out of Sanga without having to pay. Now he knew what it took—just a week spent in a dungeon being tortured. All things considered, it had been a good meat pie … but not that good.

He entered the marketplace, watching the bustle of activity. His own recruits were performing at their usual standard—one was fingering ribbons and laces in one of the merchants’ stalls while the other was leaning back against the wall of Master Wade’s shop, obviously taking a nap. It was amazing that the market hadn’t degenerated into a free-for-all, Kylon reflected, but his feet were already taking him in the direction of the person responsible for what order remained.

Ignacio turned as Kylon entered his stall. “Ah, Sergeant,” he said, then his sharp eyes spied the bars on Kylon’s shoulders. “Captain, I should say. Congratulations. And welcome back.”

“Ser Ignacio,” Kylon said. “I see you have things under control out here. Should we put you on the payroll?”

Laughing, Ignacio shook his head. “No need, Captain. As you well know, it is in my best interest that things run smoothly.” He lowered his voice. “Between you and me, my partner Cesar does not handle bad business well. It is, how shall we say, convenient to me that he remains happy.” He winked at Kylon. “His happiness is my happiness, if you will.”

“How … nice for you. Ignacio, what do you hear of the darkspawn? Do your sources tell you where they might be?”

“Ah, no. My sources, as you put it, want nothing to do with the rest of this Blighted country. Alas, I must say that they consider Ferelden already lost.”

“I see you’re still here.”

“Some business remains to be done, yes.”

“Then what will you do? You’re a ‘citizen of the road’, after all,” Kylon said, quoting what Ignacio often said. 

Ignacio shrugged eloquently. “Cesar is enamored of the smell of wet dog. It appears we will do our best to stay until it becomes clear that there is nothing left to stay for.” He looked around the market district, even more crowded than usual. “For now, business booms. Many refugees have come, and they are entranced by our exotic wares.” He grinned suddenly, showing a mouthful of large teeth. “Business is very, very good.”

Kylon took his leave of Ignacio. So the Crows thought Ferelden was lost, did they? Interesting. And sobering. It took a lot for the Crows to give up the chance of getting more money. He continued his walking tour of the city, noting the refugee carts crammed in the corner of every alley. Every so often he’d stop and ask the refugees where they came from and how things were in their homes. They seemed to be from everywhere—Lothering, the Southron Hills, the Bannorn, the Coastlands. 

He saw a merchant’s cart parked halfway across the entrance to an alley not far from the Palace, and the merchant himself toe-to-toe with a man in ragged farmer’s clothes. “You thievin’ cheat,” shouted the farmer. “Them’s my tools. You paid me five coppers for ‘em back in Lothering, and now you sell ‘em for 20 silvers?!”

“You sold them to me, what do you want?” The merchant said, looking smug.

“I want ‘em back! Here’s yer coppers,” the farmer said, dropping the coins into the dirt.

The merchant shook his head, sighing. “That’s not how the free market works, I’m afraid.”

The farmer balled his fists, taking a fighter’s stance. “I’ll show you the free market!”

“Gentlemen, what seems to be the trouble?” Kylon asked, walking up to the pair. They both started talking at once, the farmer pointing to his tools and the five coppers and the merchant loudly shouting phrases like “free market” and “in business to make money”.

Kylon held up his hand to stop the flow of words. “All right, I understand the problem.” He turned to the farmer. “Unfortunately, I have no jurisdiction over something that occurred in Lothering. Here in Denerim he is perfectly free to sell his goods for whatever price he pleases.” The farmer began to protest. Kylon cut him off. “However, I do have jurisdiction over unlicensed merchants here in Denerim. Your license, please?” he asked the merchant.

The merchant smugly handed over a piece of paper with Captain Franck’s signature. “Uh-huh. I see,” Kylon murmured, perusing the document. He looked up, meeting the merchant’s eyes directly. “How much did he take you for?”

The merchant’s eyes grew wary. “Took it out in trade. Had some nice armor—sold to me by the Grey Wardens, it was. Fleeced ‘em good, too. Stupid mage. That’s why they never let ‘em out o’ the Tower, don’t know the first thing about armor.”

Kylon was torn between affront at the man’s insult to Judith and amusement at the slur on her armor, considering she had more sets of fine enchanted armor than anyone he’d ever met. “It’s my sad duty to inform you, ser, that Captain Franck is dead, and all the phony paperwork he signed died with him. You’re going to have to go get relicensed before you’re free to operate in this town again.”

“Where do I go for this relicensing?”

“Ah, that would be me. Captain Kylon. Permission denied, ser. If you don’t pack up these wares and get out of the city tonight, your whole stock will be forfeit.”

“But—the darkspawn!” The merchant sputtered. “I’ll be eaten alive!”

Kylon shrugged. “Should’ve thought of that before, shouldn’t you? Oh, and there’s a fine for illegal operation. 20 silvers, or merchandise equaling that amount.” He nodded at the tools. “Hand them over.”

Still grumbling, the merchant did so, and he took up the traces of his cart, trundling away. Kylon turned to the farmer, handing him the tools. 

“Thank you, ser.”

“It was my pleasure. People like that give Denerim a bad name. What’s your name?”

“Raleigh.”

“Are you from Lothering?”

“I was when there was a Lothering,” Raleigh said bitterly.

“It’s gone?”

“You people here in Denerim have no idea what it’s like out there. The darkspawn are takin’ over.”

“Where are they?”

“Where?” Raleigh stared at him like he was crazy. “Everywhere!”

“But the main body?”

“As far away from me as I can get.”

“You have work, Raleigh?”

“There’s no work in Denerim. Too many refugees. Dunno where I’ll sleep tonight,” Raleigh said worriedly.

“That was a nice fighting stance,” Kylon said. “Ever think about being a Denerim guardsman? We’re recruiting skilled, reliable men.”

“Ser, really?”

Kylon nodded. “If you want, we can go to the fort now and get you signed up.”

After signing Raleigh in and sending him off to get his physical and his uniform, Kylon headed toward the Palace, where the Landsmeet was currently in session. Whatever was going to happen there, he didn’t intend to be too far away if she needed him.


	39. Landsmeet

Eamon was pacing nervously in the entrance chamber when they arrived at the Palace. He rushed toward them. “Thank the Maker you’ve arrived! The nobles are assembled, and Loghain—“ He broke off as he saw Anora. “Your Majesty. How good of you to come.”

“Thank you,” she said. “I hope my presence will help this go … smoothly.”

“As do I,” he said, but he was shaking his head as he turned to open the doors.

Before he could, the door to the street opened again, and two figures came in. “What in the name of Andraste’s knickers is going on here?” 

Judith smiled. “Shianni, thank you for coming.” She nodded at Zev. He bowed slightly and left the room. “I need to ask you a favor.”

“It must be quite a favor if you had to drag me across sodding Denerim,” Shianni snapped.

“I’d like you to join us in the Landsmeet,” Judith said, “representing the elves of Ferelden. Will you speak for your people—those from the Alienage and of the Dalish clans—in support of the Grey Wardens?”

“You bet your ass—I mean, of course I will. Thank you for the kind offer,” Shianni said. Her cheeks blazed red.

“Very well,” Judith said. She looked at the group, then, taking a deep breath, turned back to Eamon. “We’re ready,” she said.

Loghain turned to look at them as the doors opened. “Ah, at last we see—“ He, too, broke off as the Queen came in. Her hand resting possessively on Alistair’s arm sent a message louder than any words, and his jaw went slack.

“Teyrn Loghain,” Judith said. 

“Come to bring us a message from your Orlesian masters, Grey Warden?” He made the title sound like a curse.

“For the last time,” Judith snapped, “I am a Fereldan! Born and raised right here. And since you left the rest of my order to be killed on the battlefield at Ostagar, I’ve had no instructions of any kind. Everything I’ve done has been all on my own. A little help might have been appreciated!”

“And what of the Orlesian Riordan, hm?” Loghain asked, looking triumphant.

“You mean the one your confederate Arl Howe imprisoned for months in his dungeon? I didn’t manage to rescue him until all the other tasks were long done!” They were standing nose-to-nose right now, the rest of the room having receded. “Besides, Riordan was born in Ferelden!”

“Enough!” Bann Alftstanna shouted from the gallery. Her arms were crossed, one booted foot tapping impatiently. “We did not assemble here to watch the two of you scream at each other. You may each speak your piece, and then the rest of us will vote on the options available.”

Judith and Loghain each stepped back, still glaring at each other. “Very well,” Judith said.

“Fine,” Loghain bit off. 

“Teyrn Loghain, will you begin?”

“Oh, no, let’s let the Grey Warden speak,” Loghain sneered. “She has so much to say she’s called us all away from our work to hear her.”

“I have no problem with that,” Judith said. Turning, she faced the Landsmeet. “Sers, what I have to say will not take long. Simply put, I am here to try to unite Ferelden—not only against the darkspawn, but as one nation. You will see that I have a rather motley group with me today. First and foremost, my friend and fellow Grey Warden, Alistair Theirin, last surviving member of the Theirin bloodline. And with him, Queen Anora, a proven monarch with experience keeping this country running. I stand before you, a mage of the Circle; with me is Oghren, a dwarf of Orzammar; and Shianni, an elf of the Alienage. Over the past months, I have traveled this land, calling on mages, dwarves, elves, and humans to band together in defense of our country, and I have gained their pledges of support. I ask today that you support such a united Ferelden—a Ferelden where mages and dwarves and elves are treated as equals.” There was a collective gasp, and Loghain’s eyes glittered in triumph. “It may sound as though I am asking a great deal, and I am not so naïve as to think such a change will happen overnight, but how can we ask these people to fight for a land that considers them slaves, drunks, and dangerous weapons to be guarded at all times? Unite this nation under Alistair and Anora, and let us defeat the Blight together!”

There was a buzzing murmur as she stepped back, and Loghain stepped forward. “Our idealistic young friend asks you to unite Ferelden. I do, as well. Let me lead our nation’s armies against the darkspawn, and we will push them back where they came from! Do not listen to this puppet of the Orlesians! Do we know what they have offered her to come here asking us to allow the mages—like her—free rein in our country, to take us over with their blood spells at will?” An approving ripple ran through the crowd at his words. “What have they offered her to allow the elves and the dwarves to walk among us as equals, to rise up against us when we least expect it? Will the chevaliers be arriving next? Will she plead for us to accept the Orlesians into her united Ferelden? Because we know that once that happens, there will be no sending them back! I fought the Orlesians the first time—I will not let them take over our country again!”

Another man stepped forward, leaning on a cane, his face drawn and old-looking, though he was clearly still a young man. There was a murmur around the room, and Judith gathered from the whispers she heard that this was Fergus Cousland, who had been thought to have died at Ostagar after Arl Howe’s men slaughtered the rest of his family in their home at Highever. “There seems to be a misstep here,” Teyrn Cousland said in a hoarse voice that nonetheless carried across the room. “We have heard from the head of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden and from the General of Ferelden’s armies, but the candidates for King and Queen stand here silent. What have you to say, Alistair and Anora? Whose cause do you champion, and why?”

Approval swept through the room, with several other Banns shouting, “That’s right!” “Let the bastard whelp speak!” “What does the Queen have to say?”

Alistair patted Anora’s hand comfortingly, a gesture that was noticed by everyone in the room. He stepped forward. “It is no secret that my father tried to hide me away, to avoid this moment. It is also no secret that I have tried to hide from this as well, afraid to step up to my destiny. No more! I pledge to you that from this moment on I intend to rule Ferelden as my father did—to be a king for all her people, to see that everyone gets a fair shake. The Teyrn has played on your fears, suggesting that the elves of the Alienage might rise up if we treat them as equals. Why does he fear that? Because he sold them! We have proof that the Teyrn sold the elves of the Alienage as slaves to the Tevinters. No wonder they would want to rise up against him!”

“In war, there are no innocents, boy,” growled Loghain. “Sacrifices must be made—true leaders know how to make those sacrifices. When I stand before the Maker, He will judge me.”

Alistair glared at the older man, but controlled himself with an obvious effort. “The Teyrn also threatens you with the idea of blood mages. I have fought for months now at the side of this mage, and I will tell you that she is the kindest, most honorable person I have ever met. Why does the Teyrn fear mages so? Because his associate and confederate, Arl Howe, used maleficars as torturers in his dungeons! If you don’t believe me,” he added when there was a surprised mutter amongst the nobles, “ask Bann Alfstanna what happened to her brother, or Bann Sighard what happened to his son.”

Loghain bristled. “Rendon Howe was clearly a disturbed man,” he said. “What he has done, he has paid for with his life. But his crimes are not mine.”

“What of Ostagar?” came the hoarse voice of Fergus Cousland. “What have you to say of Ostagar, Alistair? You were there.”

“I was there,” Alistair said. His voice cracked. “I lost many people I cared about in that battle. But Queen Anora lost something even more precious—her husband and their future together. I will try my best to be a good husband to her, but I know I can never replace the man she lost.” He turned to look at Anora. Judith’s eyes filled with tears as she watched him. She knew what it cost him to give up the chance to publicly face down Loghain over his actions at Ostagar, and she’d never been more proud of her friend and brother-at-arms than she was in this moment.

Anora stepped forward, smiling up at Alistair. “My intended speaks the truth,” she said. “I, of course, was not at the battle of Ostagar, but I am aware of what happened, as we all are. My father removed his troops from the battlefield. He left the King, my husband, to die.”

“The Wardens goaded Cailan into that battle!” roared Loghain. “I loved Maric! No one regrets the loss of his son more than I do!”

“No one?” Anora asked. She stared at her father until he blinked and looked away, then she turned back to the assembled nobles. “My father is no longer the man we once knew. He refused to protect his King over some misguided fear of Orlesian interference, then he seized Cailan’s throne before it was even cold, leaving his body untended on the battlefield. It was left to Alistair to see Cailan to the Maker.”

Loghain swallowed. “Anora,” he said. “The Wardens’ influence has poisoned your mind. You can’t mean to choose this … anemic bastard over me!” He reached out toward her. “My child, don’t do this. Together, we will unite Ferelden. You will take the throne while I command her armies to victory over the darkspawn.”

“As you did at Ostagar, Father? Is that what you told Cailan?” A tear slid down Anora’s cheek, and she looked away.

“Enough!” Bann Alfstanna snapped. “Let us vote. The Waking Sea stands with the Wardens!”

Other voices joined in the chorus. “South Reach is for the Wardens.” “Dragon’s Peak will follow the Wardens!” “The Western Hills stands behind the Wardens.” And finally, the hoarse voice of Fergus Cousland cutting through it all. “Highever will stand with the Grey Wardens and a united Ferelden.”

Arl Eamon sighed, the tension seeping from his body. “I knew Ferelden would do the right thing,” he sighed.

Loghain stared around him in shock. “None of you deserve a say!” he screamed. “None of you have spilled blood for this nation the way I have. How dare you judge me?”

“Father.” Anora’s voice was soft. “It is over.”

“It is not over!” He drew his sword. “I will fight the whelp!”

Alistair looked eager, his hand reaching for the pommel of his sword, then he caught Judith’s eye. She moved her head once from side to side, warningly, and he nodded in comprehension, his hand falling back to his side. He swallowed, his disappointment obvious. “I will not fight the father of my intended bride.” He took a deep breath. “With the Landsmeet’s permission, I ask that Teyrn Loghain be imprisoned in Fort Drakon until such time that the Blight has been defeated and he can receive a fair trial for his crimes. His … This country owes him a debt that I will not repay by spilling his blood here.”

Loghain’s shoulders sagged, the fight gone out of him. He offered no resistance when the guards came for him, and allowed himself to be led away. Arl Eamon stepped forward. “It is settled,” he said, his voice booming happily across the room. 

Alistair cleared his throat. “I thank you for this vote of confidence,” he said. “But for now, the important part is the Blight. Before I was acknowledged as my father’s son, I was a Grey Warden, and as a Grey Warden I will finish this. My intended bride, Queen Anora, will rule in my place during that time, and my friend and Commander, Judith Amell, will lead the assembled armies of Ferelden. May we be victorious!” he shouted. “All of us, together!” The Landsmeet cheered for him, for Anora, and for Judith.


	40. Secrets

Eamon was so pleased with the resolution of the Landsmeet, he pushed to do the coronation and the wedding the same evening. He didn’t want to take the chance of anything going wrong … and Judith suspected he wanted to get the next Theirin heir on the way as soon as possible. Alistair didn’t look entirely comfortable with this turn of events, but Judith thought it was a sensible plan. All the nobles were there, it took care of any lingering concerns about the Grey Wardens’ intentions, and it meant he would be going into battle as King, which should inspire the troops.

Judith left the Palace before the others, hoping to get back to Eamon’s estate and warn Leliana about the upcoming nuptials before anyone less sympathetic mentioned them to her. As she walked down the Palace steps, she saw Daniel waiting there for her. He grinned. “I was loitering about waiting to see if you needed any help. I should have known you wouldn’t have.”

She smiled back. “It’s nice to know you’d have had my back if I had needed any, though.” Giving a little skip, she took his arm. “It went as well as we could have asked for,” she said, grinning at him. “Alistair and Anora as king and queen, Teyrn Loghain in jail awaiting trial for his crimes, the nobles even agreed to a united Ferelden, so hopefully we can help the elves and mages have a better life. I can’t believe we prevailed!” 

“Where are we off to now?”

The smile slid off Judith’s face. “I have to go tell Leliana that Alistair’s getting married. Tonight.”

“Tonight! Royal weddings never happen that fast. It took months for Cailan and Anora’s wedding to be prepared.”

Shrugging, Judith said, “The nobles are all assembled, and no one—other than Alistair, of course—wants to wait.”

“I don’t blame him. No one wants to be shanghaied into marriage.”

“I think he’ll like it better than he expects,” Judith said. “He’s come a long way.”

“If you say so,” Daniel said skeptically, but he held his peace until they reached Arl Eamon’s estate. Leliana waited in the entrance hall, her face eager. Daniel watched as Judith walked over to her friend, taking Leliana’s hands in hers and leaning close to talk to her urgently but with sympathy. He saw the understanding and the resignation on Leliana’s face. The two women embraced. Then Leliana left the hall, walking slowly but with her shoulders straight. 

“Will she be all right?” he asked Judith with concern.

“She will. She’s a survivor. Have some faith,” Judith said. “Meanwhile …”

“Yes?”

“Care to accompany me to a coronation and a wedding? I believe I have been elected maiden of honor.”

“How did that happen?”

“Lack of anyone else to ask, I believe. Come with me,” she said, grabbing his hand. “You’re off duty now, right?”

“Right. All yours until tomorrow morning.”

Judith stopped walking, looking at him seriously.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she said, but a shadow fell over the blue eyes. She walked quickly toward their room, not looking at him.

“By the way,” he said, in an attempt to lighten the mood, “they gave me a promotion. I’m Captain Kylon now.”

Judith stopped walking again. “That’s wonderful news!” she said. “Is there time to congratulate you properly?” 

He grinned. “This is your shindig,” he said. “Is there time?”

“Maybe. If we hurry.”

They made it to their room, and Judith began to unbuckle her armor, but Daniel put his hands over hers and took her into his arms. “When I mentioned tomorrow, you got spooked. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Judith looked up into his brown eyes. “We go to Redcliffe after the Archdemon tomorrow,” she said in a small voice.

“Redcliffe?”

“Riordan thinks that’s where the Horde will be massing. It’s near where they’ve done most of their damage so far, the closest city of any size.”

“Sounds reasonable enough,” he said. His arms tightened around her. “You’re thinking this could be our last night together.” The enormity of it made him want to hold her close and keep her in his arms where she’d be safe.

She nodded, biting her lip to keep the tears back. “I—I love you, Daniel. I don’t … want anything to happen to you.”

His breath caught in his chest. He’d wanted to hear her say those words for so long. “I love you, too,” he said softly. He drew her even closer, his lips meeting hers. The world fell away as they slowly shed their armor, not losing contact with each other for a moment, then came together on the bed, so entwined they couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.

In the aftermath, as she lay with her head on his chest, something she’d said came back to him. “Hey,” he said.

Judith raised her head to look at him.

“You said you didn’t want anything to happen to me. You’re the one going into battle against the Archdemon—I’m just going to be quietly here in Denerim.” 

The shadow fell over her eyes again. “I have to get dressed,” she said, starting to get up.

Daniel tightened his grasp on her. “No, you don’t. No running off with things unsaid. What is it?”

She swallowed. “Riordan. He knows how to do the Joining ritual. He suggested … you …”

Sitting up, Daniel stared at her. “Me? A Grey Warden? What did you say?”

“Nothing yet. I … didn’t know what to think. But—I don’t want you to do it.”

“Why not?” 

She trembled. “I can’t tell you. They’re Grey Warden secrets.”

“I already know a lot of Grey Warden secrets,” he said reasonably. “What’s a few more? Besides, if you’re trying to decide if I should become a Grey Warden, shouldn’t I know what the options are?”

“Apparently most don’t,” Judith said. She sighed. “All right. You might die in the Joining. When I went through mine, I was the only one of three to survive. Alistair indicated that wasn’t abnormal for a Joining. And if you didn’t die, your blood would be tainted, you’d never be able to have children, and you’d only have 30 years to live.”

“30 years?!”

“Hasn’t that come up yet?” she asked sadly. “Once you’ve been through the Joining, your body can only fight off the taint for so long. Most Grey Wardens go off to Orzammar—they call it ‘the Calling’—and die fighting darkspawn instead of giving in to the taint and … I don’t know, becoming one? Alistair wasn’t clear on what exactly happens.”

“So that’s your future, then? Twenty-odd years from now, it’s ‘so long, I’m off to Orzammar’?”

“I’m sorry. It’s just … one more lovely part to being a Grey Warden.”

Daniel pulled her back into his arms, burying his face in her hair. “Seems silly, doesn’t it? With the battle against the Archdemon, to be sad because I have to give you up in a few decades?” He chuckled. “As for me, you seem pretty clearly opposed to me becoming a Grey Warden.” The idea held little appeal for him. He had a duty already, and even the chance to be with her didn’t tip the scales. Whatever came, he’d be more use to her in a position separate from the Grey Wardens.

“I don’t want to see anything happen to you,” she said.

“Well, I certainly won’t fight you about it,” he said. “My duty is here. Waiting for you.”

“Always the optimist,” she said, snuggling in closer.

“I found you, didn’t I? And you rescued me, and here we are. We’ve beaten the odds already. What’s one more time?” He smoothed his hand over her hair, cradling her close, and they sat there together for a long time, both trying to believe there would be a happy ending for them.


	41. Encouragement

Daniel and Judith were still sitting there, holding each other, when a knock sounded on the door. “Who is it?” Judith called out, not moving. 

“My lady, Arl Eamon thought you and the Captain might need appropriate clothes for the evening’s festivities.”

Judith looked down at herself, still naked, and laughed. “He wasn’t wrong.” She hastily slid on her mage robes and cracked the door open. An elven maid handed two sets of clothing through the door. “Tell the Arl we appreciate the gesture, please.” The maid curtsied and left.

“Time to get back to the business of the kingdom, then?” Daniel grinned. Judith’s eyes raked over his naked form, and she sighed. 

“Much as I wish I could just keep you here until it’s time to go tomorrow, Alistair would kill me if I wasn’t there for his wedding and coronation. I believe he’ll need someone to glare at every time he gets called ‘Your Majesty’. Or ‘husband’.”

“And you’re sure he’s ready for all of this?”

“Does he have a choice?” Judith said, slipping her smallclothes back on. “You should have seen him today, facing down Ser Cauthrien, Loghain’s second. He was … impressive. And then in the Landsmeet? He turned down the opportunity to face Loghain in head-to-head battle, and recommended instead that Loghain be put in Fort Drakon awaiting a fair trial. I wouldn’t have believed Alistair could do that if I hadn’t seen it myself.”

Daniel watched her getting dressed, but even that lovely sight wasn’t enough to distract him. He thought how he would feel if someone told him he’d have to give Judith up, never see her again, and marry another woman. Would he have the strength? The determination? “What would you do?” he asked abruptly. “Would you be able to … marry someone you didn’t love, knowing the person you did love was still out there somewhere?”

Judith finished shrugging into the embroidered petticoat that went under the dress. She studied Daniel for a moment, wondering what answer he was looking for. At last, she said, “We all do what we must, don’t we? Within a few days, I’ll arrive at Redcliffe, and there’s every possibility I will have to give up my life to save Ferelden. I suppose I could always run away, take you and go to the Free Marches and hope that someone else stops the Blight before it gets there. I suppose you could leave Denerim undefended and come along to try and stop me from sacrificing myself by killing the Archdemon—but you aren’t going to do that, are you? Because you swore an oath to defend this city, and without that oath, what would there be of you to love? It’s the same for Alistair. If he couldn’t give Leliana up for the good of the kingdom, he wouldn’t be the man she loves. He knows that; so does she. Anora will treat him well, he’ll charm the smallclothes off her, and Leliana will find someone else who is worthy of her. If we mope around looking all sad for them, it will make it that much harder.” She reached out and took his hand, drawing him close to her. “Are you going to get dressed now, or do I have to take you down to the wedding unclothed? Of course, then Anora would insist on marrying you instead, and I’d have to do something bad to her with magic, and it would be a big national incident. I think getting dressed might be the wiser course.” She grinned as a smile spread over his face, and Daniel took her in his arms, kissing her. 

The dressing process would have been even more interrupted had there not been another knock at the door. They broke apart, and Judith went to the door. “Who is it?”

“Alistair.”

She opened the door a sliver, aware of Daniel hastily throwing clothes on behind her. “What can I do for you?”

“Er, actually, it’s Kylon I was looking for.”

“Really.” Judith raised an eyebrow. She looked over her shoulder questioningly, and Daniel nodded, pulling his pants on. “All right, come on in. Do I have to leave for this, or can I finish getting dressed? I have a wedding and a coronation to get to—maybe you’ve heard about them.”

Alistair smiled nervously at that. “That’s why I’ve come. Er, Kylon.”

“Daniel.”

“Daniel, then. Um … it appears that it’s customary that the groom have a, er, best man. And, well, I thought about Zev, but he’d make dirty faces at the Revered Mother. And I thought of Oghren, but he’d make inappropriate comments at Anora and I hear it’s bad luck if the queen kills someone at the wedding. So, um, would you …?”

“Be your best man?” Daniel’s eyebrows shot up. “I … suppose. What do you need me to do?”

Alistair shrugged, looking miserably nervous in the overly fancy gold armor someone (Eamon, almost surely, Judith thought) had made him wear. “Best man … stuff?”

“Happy to. Is there time for a bachelor party?” Daniel grinned.

“Probably not. And, again with Oghren and Zev and it being something of a bad idea to let their imaginations wander.”

“So I gathered from some of their conversations in the Alienage. Tell you what—let’s get this pesky Archdemon out of the way, and I’ll throw you a belated bachelor party.”

Alistair looked at Judith. “Is he always this overly optimistic?”

She smiled, settling the last piece of her dress in place. “He seems to be.”

Daniel looked over at her and held his breath in wonder. The white petticoat was lavishly embroidered in a pattern of silvery vines and leaves, and the overdress was of a deep midnight blue that set off her creamy skin and blue eyes. The bodice pushed her breasts up enticingly. Alistair forgotten, Daniel took a step toward her, reaching to take her in his arms. “A vision like this could make a man believe in just about anything,” he whispered huskily, kissing her.

After several moments of fidgeting, Alistair coughed. Then he cleared his throat. “All right!” he said finally. The other two broke apart, but their dazed expressions indicated they wouldn’t stay that way for long. “Er, Judith? Anora was asking for you. A little help in preparing, maybe?”

“Hm?” Judith tore her gaze away from Daniel’s at last. “Oh, Anora! Wedding. Right.” In a swirl of skirts, she left the room.

“Too bad it isn’t you getting married,” Alistair said moodily as the door closed and Kylon finished getting dressed.

“She thinks you’ll be fine,” Daniel said.

“Your optimism is infectious, apparently.”

“What do you think?”

“I think I’m about to take over the life of a brother I never knew, because of a father who never wanted me, and do a job I’m not suited for.” The golden armor clanked as Alistair crossed the room to stare out the window. “Judith’s been giving me pep talks, and I know she’s right, but … I feel like mini Cailan. Where’s Alistair in all this?” He thumped his breastplate. It sounded hollow.

Kylon picked up a boot, slowly drawing it on. Thoughtfully, he said, “I guess that’s the decision you have to make—how does King Alistair differ from King Cailan?”

Alistair nodded. “I suppose. I can do it, if I have to, but this is really the very last chance I have to wish I didn’t have to. In a couple of hours, I’ll be King, wedded to Anora, and that will be that.”

“Obviously I never met King Cailan, and I don’t know you that well, but I have to tell you … I’d rather go into battle behind you any day. He was eager, enthusiastic, but too much so. Your very reluctance will make you a better leader, and I daresay a better husband. Because your decisions will be made deliberately, instead of rushing into whatever strikes your fancy.”

“Thank you. Daniel.” Alistair turned from the window. The two men clasped hands.

Kylon looked down at himself. “I feel … not quite suited for being the King’s best man. Are you sure there isn’t some noble you’d rather have?”

Sighing, Alistair said, “I don’t know any of them. Besides, I’m not exactly a noble, and they might as well get used to that from the start, don’t you think?”

“That sounds like Alistair speaking, not mini Cailan,” Kylon observed, grinning.

Alistair looked at him in surprise. “It does, doesn’t it? Maybe this won’t be as bad as I thought.”


	42. Ceremony

Kylon and Alistair walked to the Palace together, Alistair fidgeting in the golden armor that had been made for the taller, less muscled Cailan. He paused at one point, heedless of the busy street they were in, to try and adjust the breastplate, Kylon helping him with the buckles and the resettling. When the breastplate was back in place, marginally more comfortable, they both looked up and noticed that they were in the midst of a circle of Fereldans. Kylon could hear whispers and comments from the crowd. “Don’t wear that armor like the old King did, does he?” “You think he has to have a servant help him with his armor ev’rywhere he goes?” “Mamae, is that the new King? He looks nice.” “Just like his father, walks through the people like he’s one of ‘em.” “Cailan!” “Not Cailan, you fool. Albert or somethin’.” “Oh.” 

Kylon cleared a path through the people, hearing more commentary as they passed. Once they were safely inside the Palace, Alistair said, “I finally understand why nobles never actually walk anywhere. Maker, some of those people actually seemed to think I was Cailan arisen from the dead. Creepy.”

“And others were impressed,” Kylon said. “That the man about to become king would walk amongst them as though he were one of them. If you’re smart, you’ll maintain that impression.”

“Most people don’t take my intelligence as a given,” Alistair murmured.

Kylon clapped him on the back. “Think how good it will feel to prove them all wrong.”

Alistair grinned. “Keep talking like that, I’ll make you Chancellor.”

“No, thank you!”

Eamon came through the doors, rubbing his hands together. He looked Alistair over. “Good, good. You’re here, Anora’s ready … let’s get started, shall we?”

“Might as well be now as later,” Alistair sighed. “Which comes first, the coronation or the wedding?”

“The coronation, I believe. Then the wedding.”

“Great,” Alistair groaned, although it wasn’t clear if he would have been happier had the order been reversed. The Landsmeet stood, watching, absolutely silent, as Alistair clanked up the aisle in his golden armor. The atmosphere was a somber one. 

The Grand Cleric stood at the front of the room, the golden crown held high in her hands. Alistair approached, kneeling before her. Kylon, watching from the back, thought that he looked as though he expected to be beheaded instead of crowned. The Grand Cleric intoned the words of the Canticle of Benedictions:

_Blessed are they who stand before_  
_The corrupt and the wicked and do not falter._  
_Blessed are the peacekeepers, champions of the just._

She laid the crown gently on Alistair’s head. “Rise, Alistair Theirin, King of Ferelden,” she said. “May your reign prosper and your rule be wise.”

Alistair stood, facing the Landsmeet. As Kylon watched, he took a deep breath, his eyes closed, and then raised one arm, crossing it over his chest, and bowed toward them. Swearing his oath of fealty to the nation, Kylon thought. How very Alistair. And as one, the members of the Landsmeet, Ferelden’s nobles and rulers, returned the gesture. 

At the back of the room, the sisters of the Denerim Chantry began to sing the Chant of Light, softly and in exquisite harmony, their voices floating ethereally across the room. Kylon stepped forward, taking his place at Alistair’s side. His presence caused a small stir, as none of the nobles knew who he was, but then all was quiet again. Eamon hastily handed Kylon a pair of rings and then returned to stand with the other nobles.

Before the great doors opened to admit the bride, Kylon looked around. Besides the assembled Landsmeet, the rest of Judith’s crew was there, as well. Morrigan, staring at Alistair with what appeared to be intense annoyance; Sten, looking stern; Wynne, the doting grandparent; Oghren, trying to muffle his belches; Zevran, who, true to Alistair’s prediction, was making lascivious eyes at the Grand Cleric; and Leliana, whose eyes shone soft and proud on the tall man in the golden armor. Kylon was shocked to see her there, particularly with a smile on her face and no trace of tears, but he saw Alistair’s shoulders straighten under her gaze, saw the nervousness recede, and Kylon’s admiration for the bard went up. Whatever it may be costing, her presence and support gave Alistair the strength he needed.

And then Judith came through the doors, walking slowly in the lovely blue gown, and Kylon had no further thought for anything but watching her, pretending for a moment that she was walking down that aisle to him. He didn’t even notice Anora’s entrance, until Judith came to a stop across from him, raising her lovely blue eyes to smile into his, and Anora took her place at Alistair’s side. Someone, probably Judith, had convinced Anora to loosen her hair from the two braided no-nonsense buns she usually wore, and the golden tresses streamed down her back, making her look younger and more vulnerable. Alistair clearly felt it, for he took Anora’s hand solicitously. She glanced up at him in surprise, then her face relaxed into a smile.

The Grand Cleric raised her arms. “As we have come together here to celebrate the marriage of these two young souls, may Andraste look down and smile upon us.” She droned on for several more minutes as Judith stood listening. Mages were, if not exactly forbidden, strongly discouraged from marrying, and Judith had never been to a wedding. It felt to her like a display, the kind of smoke and mirrors mages were sometimes expected to bring forth to entertain visiting dignitaries. If she were ever to be able to marry, despite Chantry and Blight and Archdemon, she’d want something small, presided over by someone she respected, and only those present who truly meant something to her. Behind Alistair and Anora’s backs she met Daniel’s eyes, the warmth there covering her like a soft blanket. If she were ever able to marry, she knew whose hand she would want in hers.

Judith’s attention was drawn back to the couple in front of the Cleric, as they turned to one another, hands clasped. Alistair repeated shakily after the Grand Cleric, “As the Maker took Andraste, so I, Alistair, take you, Anora. I promise to honor and to care for you, in the light and in the darkness, all the rest of my days.” He took a deep breath when it was done.

In her turn, Anora listened to the Grand Cleric, repeating the words in a voice that carried firmly through the room. “As Andraste gave herself to the Maker, so I, Anora, give myself to you, Alistair. I promise to honor and to care for you, in the light and in the darkness, all the rest of my days.” 

Alistair turned, looking somewhat panicked, but Daniel had the rings ready. His eyes meeting Daniel’s with less desperation than either of them would have expected, Alistair took the rings and turned back to Anora. He slid the ring on her finger, saying, “With this ring, I take you as my own.” Anora’s eyes widened in dismay as she looked at the ring, but she pulled herself together, putting Alistair’s ring on his finger and repeating the words.

Daniel watched her reaction with interest, wondering whose rings had been pressed into service for the royal couple. He stole a look at Judith, who seemed fascinated by the proceedings, but gave no sign that she was at all emotionally affected by them. Kylon himself was incredibly moved, not necessarily by the joining of Alistair and Anora in matrimony, but by the idea that he himself could be there one day, with Judith at his side, claiming her as his own for the rest of the time left to them. The words had taken on new meaning as he imagined himself saying them to her. He took a moment, screened from view by Alistair’s armored shoulder, to dab at the corner of his eye with his handkerchief.

Rings safely bestowed upon each other, the newly married couple turned to face the Landsmeet, while the Grand Cleric’s voice rose above those of the Chanters in the back as she sang from the Canticle of Trials: 

_Maker, though the darkness comes upon me,_  
_I shall embrace the light. I shall weather the storm._  
_I shall endure._  
_What you have created, no one can tear asunder._

As the last notes faded, the Grand Cleric intoned, “You may kiss your bride.” Judith saw Alistair’s eyes seek Leliana’s. The bard smiled, nodding at him, and he sighed, some of the tension leaving his body. Only when Alistair transferred his gaze to the woman next to him did Leliana’s calm composure slip as the bard leaned on Wynne’s shoulder. Judith looked back at Alistair, seeing a new strength and determination in his eyes as he took Anora’s face in his hands, kissing her deeply to the boisterous approval of the Landsmeet. Looking at Eamon, Judith could see the new baby Theirin taking shape in the Arl’s gleaming eyes and she hoped he realized it wasn’t going to be that easy.

The kiss ended, and Alistair and Anora, both a bit flushed, turned back toward the Landsmeet. Behind them, the Grand Cleric lifted her arms once again. “Lords and ladies, may I present to you, officially, King Alistair and Queen Anora. May their reign and their marriage endure to grace our land for many years to come.”

There was loud applause in the Landsmeet, and the tension lifted perceptibly. The Blight still threatened, but having a clearly defined leader at the head of the country made it seem like a problem Ferelden could handle.


	43. Promises

It was a short walk from the Landsmeet chamber to the great hall of the Palace, where as lavish a banquet as was possible on such short notice and with so much of the nation’s farmland swallowed up by the Blight had been prepared. Alistair and Anora took their places in front of the grand fireplace, waiting to receive the line of nobility. Anora, having been through this before, steered Alistair almost imperceptibly with the soft hand that lay on his arm. Judith stayed by the door, Daniel’s presence next to her warming her all through. 

“What did you think?” he murmured to her.

“Pageantry,” she said briefly. “It was all for show.” 

“Oh.” Watching Alistair, Judith missed the crestfallen look on Daniel’s face. He was disappointed that her thoughts hadn’t drifted in the same direction his had. But he supposed that the circumstances might have had something to do with it.

The receiving line at last came to an end. With a nod to Daniel, Alistair stepped into an antechamber, Daniel helping him to remove his armor. He changed some of the finest noble clothing that could be found, awkwardly arranging each little bit of finery. Alistair frowned at the man in the mirror. “This style is uncomfortable, unattractive, and makes us all look like a bunch of Orlesian fops.”

“Agreed, sire. You’ll have to set a new fashion.” Daniel grinned at the parade of expressions across the other man’s face. Outrage at being referred to as sire, discomfort with the idea of being a trendsetter, and finally a certain level of interest at the possibilities that opened up.

“You’re a devious fellow, do you know that?”

“So I’ve been told.” 

They returned to the reception, taking their places at the head table on the dais. There was a hum throughout the room, the nobles relaxing and their tongues loosening as a result. Over the top of the crowd, Alistair held one hand up for quiet. He waited, patiently, unmoving, until quiet had settled. Judith had to smile at that. How many times had she done the same thing in group meetings at camp, simply stood there and let her silent, unmoving presence do the shouting for her? 

“My lords and my ladies,” Alistair said clearly. “Words cannot express how moved I am at this vote of your confidence in me. I will try to be worthy of the legacy I bear, of all the brave people who went before me, and of the woman who has just entrusted her happiness to my hands.” He smiled down at Anora, who, unaccountably, blushed. They were putting on a very good show, Judith thought. Alistair went on, “As you’re all aware, I never had the chance to know my father. But I do know that his devotion to Ferelden was total. And as his son, I can hardly do less. Today, the most pressing matter threatening our country is the Blight, the Archdemon having been allowed to march almost unopposed through our lands because of the division at the top of our leadership. As this Blight began, I was a proud member of the Grey Wardens, and as a Grey Warden I intend to see this Blight through, to see the Archdemon slain and peace restored to our homes.” There was scattered applause, and he held his hand up again. “My new bride Anora will retain the throne, acting as regent until I can return to it, and I will follow the Commander of the armies of Ferelden, the Commander of the Grey Wardens, Judith Amell, as she leads into battle the troops she has so painstakingly assembled.” Judith started and blushed, not having expected him to announce that. She held her breath, waiting for the inevitable complaint about mages in positions of power, but there was none. Merely a cheer, as those present lifted their glasses and drank a toast to the King, the Queen, and the Commander.

Once the food had been consumed, servants pushed the tables aside and the musicians began to play. Anora and Alistair stood up. She glanced at him in concern. “Do you know how to dance?” She thought of her feet in their delicate slippers and devoutly hoped so.

Alistair flashed her that charming grin of his. “As it happens, I do.” He held his eyes on Anora’s, refusing to let his gaze wander into the crowd and seek out the woman who had taught him to dance. Leliana was his yesterday; Anora was, must be, his today and tomorrow. He held his arm out to her, leading her out onto the dance floor. Pulling her close, he began the steps he had learned in so many camps around Ferelden. Their first dance ended and other couples began to join them on the dance floor. He supposed he should dance with some of the other noble ladies—wasn’t that one of the things a King was obligated to do?—but Anora was soft and warm in his arms and he found he didn’t want to let her go just yet. 

“Whose ring is that?” he asked abruptly.

“Sorry,” she said, looking up at him. “My thoughts were … What ring?”

“The one you’re wearing,” he said. “You looked unhappy when I put it on you.”

“Ah,” she said. Her eyes grew sad. “It’s mine. It was strange to have you putting it on me, instead of Cailan.”

“Oh.” Alistair gave her a sympathetic smile. “I’m not surprised you looked unhappy. I’m more surprised you didn’t burst into tears right then.” He paused, then said, “You’re very strong, Anora.”

“I’ve had to be,” she said. “My father’s daughter, Cailan’s wife, Ferelden’s queen—there was no one I could lean on. I’ve had to learn to get by on my own.”

They danced in quiet for a moment. Then Alistair said, “I’ll get you a new ring. When I—get back, we’ll go and pick one out together. And one for me that fits,” he said, grimacing. The ring they’d found for him was definitely too small. 

“I … think I’d like that. Do you think you’ll be coming back?” Her blue eyes met his, and he knew there would be no easy reassurances. She understood what it was like to send a husband off to war.

“In truth, I do,” he said. “I suppose everyone does.” He shrugged slightly. “But we have a good team, good healers. Judith knows how to run a battle. And … at the end, she’ll do whatever it takes to get me through the battle alive.” He bit his lip unhappily. “I don’t like that—if she has to sacrifice herself so I can return to be King, I don’t know how I’ll live with myself—but I can’t deny it, either.”

“She knows what she’s doing,” Anora said. 

“Yes.”

“And will probably do the right thing for Ferelden. An admirable quality.” She glanced up at her new husband again. “A-Alistair?” It may have been the first time she’d said his name to him, and both of them were surprised at how it felt.

“Yeesss?”

“I-I hope you do come back. It would be nice to be … a real wife.” Anora looked away in confusion, uncomfortable with having revealed so much.

“I hope I do, too. I’d like to be a good husband to you. And … I want you to be able to talk to me. I get the impression Cailan wasn’t … around much, and I’d like to do better by you.” She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off. “I’m not fishing for details, or gossip. I’ve heard bits and pieces, and I’m sure he had his good points and his bad ones, like everyone. But … if there’s anything you wanted to do differently, before, I wish you’d tell me.”

Anora smiled slightly. “You’re very kind. I know … there was someone else.” It was her turn to cut his response off. “I know there was, it doesn’t matter how. And I’m sorry you had to give her up for me. But that is the one thing that I will ask of you, if you’re offering to take requests. Don’t … don’t make me a laughingstock, by going around with other women.” Her cheeks flushed red.

“I wouldn’t even know how,” he said, smiling, his arms tightening around her. “What there was … has ended. Mutually,” he added. “I have promised myself to you, and I will honor that promise.”

“Thank you, Alistair.” Her eyes shone so soft and bright as she looked up at him this time that without thinking, he bent his head, capturing her lips with his own. The kiss was soft and brief, but it ignited a spark between them that neither had expected.


	44. Dancing

Leliana watched the kiss on the dance floor—the spontaneous kiss, given to Anora because he wanted to—and she knew her lover was lost to her for good. She bit her lip, fleeing the festivities. Finding herself in a quiet parlor, Leliana sank onto a chaise, stuffing her fist into her mouth, biting down on the knuckles. She had wept for him enough. There need be no more tears, not for an event they’d seen coming for some time. Staring into the fire, she concentrated on breathing, anything to avoid seeing his face in her mind.

There was movement at the doorway, and Leliana jumped in surprise. She must have been distracted to let someone sneak up on her like that.

“Your name is Leliana, isn’t it?” A woman came into the room, one who looked vaguely familiar. She had short dark hair arranged in little braids all over her head, and she wore a glorious emerald green gown that set off the red highlights in her hair beautifully.

Leliana blinked confusedly. “Y-yes,” she said hesitantly. She stood, her back to the fire, as the other woman came into the room.

“My name is Alfstanna. I’m Bann of the Waking Sea. I-I remember seeing you play, once. It was a house party, in Orlais, and you sang and …” Alfstanna blushed. “I have never forgotten you.”

“Ah,” Leliana said. There had been many such parties, none of which particularly stood out from the rest. She may have seen this woman at one of them, but didn’t remember meeting her.

“If I’m not being too intrusive, why are you not playing tonight?”

A pang tore at Leliana’s heart. Play tonight? No songs would come, none, at least, suitable for a wedding. “I …” She opened her mouth meaning to lie, invent a slight cold, but instead what came out was, “It would have been too hard.”

Sympathy passed over Alfstanna’s face. How much, if anything, she knew it was impossible to tell, but she guessed enough. Softly, she closed the door behind her. “It’s a shame that such a beautiful woman as yourself should have to suffer here alone. Would you mind some company?”

Leliana’s eyes met those of the other woman. Was it too soon to be feeling an attraction to another? It had been a long while since Leliana had felt a woman’s touch, and she longed for the gentleness she saw in Alfstanna’s eyes. “That … would be most kind of you.”

Alfstanna stepped further into the room, her face lighting with her smile. “Is it kindness, if the pleasure is mine?” She sank down on the chaise, looking up at Leliana. “If I’m not being too forward, would you—sing for me? A … private performance?”

Perhaps the ending of something also marked the beginning of another, Leliana thought. She smiled. “It would be my pleasure, my lady.”  
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
Wynne stood in a corner of the reception, her eyes affectionately on Alistair as he bowed deeply over the hand of one of the noblewomen and led her out onto the dance floor. Suddenly a hand moved caressingly on her shoulder, and she let out a small cry of surprise. Then she smelled the leather and musk scent of the Antivan, and her face relaxed into a smile. “Zevran, what are you doing sneaking up on people?”

“It is my nature to sneak. It would not do to allow my … skills to atrophy through disuse, would it?” He grinned wolfishly at her. “Besides, my lovely maiden of magic, it is not people upon whom I sneak—it is you, enchanting temptress that you are.”

Shaking her head, but with a smile, Wynne said, “Do you never quit?”

“Not when the object of my pursuit is as delectable as you,” he purred. “Shall we disport ourselves upon the dance floor, where I may rest my head upon your magical bosom?”

She looked at him in exasperation, then smiled suddenly. “Why not?”

“A more enthusiastic acceptance I could never have imagined,” he said, taking her arm and leading her forward.  
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
Morrigan also stood in a corner, tapping her foot impatiently. This entire display seemed to her to be wasted time and effort with a long day’s travel toward battle in the morning, and she was concerned about how Alistair’s marriage, which she had not expected, would affect her plans. She crossed her arms in annoyance. 

A brown-haired elf rushed up to her. “My lady,” said Soris breathlessly. “I had hoped I would find you here.”

“Indeed,” Morrigan said. An impetuous lad, but somehow she couldn’t find it in herself to be too dismissive of him. He meant well. “For what purpose were you seeking me?”

He blinked, his smile dimming briefly. “I was hoping you might like to dance.”

“Dance?” Morrigan looked blank, despite the many examples of the verb displayed before her. “Me?”

“Yes, my lady.” 

Morrigan flushed, caught at an unusual disadvantage. “I … do not know the steps.”

Soris looked surprised. He looked around, then grinned at her. “We can dance in the hallway. I’ll teach you the steps; no one will see.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to say no. Then, instead, “Very well. Lead on.”  
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
Oghren spun and twisted, his movements echoed by the flame-haired elf in his arms. Shianni was a wild spider on the dance floor, he thought, a huge grin splitting his face. 

“What are you grinning at?” she snapped. “You think you’re getting lucky tonight?”

“No,” Oghren said briefly, turning and dipping her so she lay in his arms, her delectable lips mere inches from his. “You’re getting sodding lucky tonight,” he growled, and his mouth claimed hers, his beard tickling her face. Shianni grabbed a hank of his hair, pulling it, but she kissed him back with equal fervor.  
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
After dancing with more ladies than he could count, Alistair at last found himself at the edge of the dance floor on his own. After downing most of a tankard of ale—which tasted like water after Oghren’s special brew—he looked around for his bride. She was standing in a small knot of people, including Bann Teagan and a few others he didn’t recognize. He had to admit, Anora was lovely, especially with her hair loose down her back like that. Taller, less voluptuous, more aloof than Leliana, Anora presented a mystery, a challenge. 

Alistair appreciated a challenge. He walked over to the little knot, the group opening to leave him a space next to his new wife. He placed his hand on Anora’s elbow. She caught her breath, and he felt the little movement of her body next to his all the way down to his toes.

“Would the rest of you mind very much if I danced with my wife?” he said, flashing a smile. A laugh rippled through the small group, and Anora blushed softly, handing off her punch cup.

“That was most high-handed of you, Your Majesty,” she said, laughing up at him. From her, he didn’t quite mind being called Your Majesty, he found.

“I have a confession to make,” he said.

“What’s that?”

“I didn’t really want to dance with you.” The huskiness in his tone said everything he hadn’t about what he really wanted.

Anora’s eyes widened, her lips parting softly. “Oh.”

“How long do you think we need to stay?”

“We’re the King and Queen,” she said, and she smiled at him. “We leave when we please.”

“Lucky us, then,” he grinned. Then he gulped. “Anora.”

“Alistair?”

“There’s something I need to tell you. You know … one of the reasons Arl Eamon pushed to put me on the throne was because of my bloodline. The need to … perpetuate my bloodline.”

“Yes.” 

“It’s just … Grey Wardens have difficulty siring children. It’s possible I might not be able to. At all. So if you don’t want to … you know, we don’t have to.”

Anora thought about that for a moment, then she smiled at him. “Cailan had … relations with half the women he met. At least.” The smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, and she looked away. Alistair squeezed her gently, sorry she had to tell him this. “To the best of my knowledge, none of them ever gave birth to his child. And I suspect I would have heard.” She looked back at Alistair. “So I long ago realized that if a child is my destiny, it will come, and if it’s not, it won’t, and have stopped waiting and wondering. I am … willing, more than willing, to take you to my bed.” Leaning forward, she whispered it, her breath wafting over his skin. “Any time you’re ready.”

Emotions burned inside Alistair, too many to give names to. At last, he cleared his throat. “What are we waiting for, then?”  
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
Daniel had been wandering the crowd all evening, waiting to catch Judith unoccupied. She was working the room nicely, he had to admit—chatting up the nobles, dancing when asked, catching each member of her team in turn to make sure they had their instructions for the morning. Kylon himself had been caught up in a number of conversations, the nobles not always subtle in their effort to determine who he was and why he had been chosen to stand at the side of the King at his wedding. He made his answers as noncommittal as possible, and did his best to turn the conversation to the nobles’ holdings, trying to find out how things stood in the rest of the country, getting a sense of where the darkspawn might be. 

At last he spied Judith by herself, standing by one of the tables and sipping from a cup of punch. He came up behind her, sliding one arm around her waist. “It seems to me that even an indomitable Grey Warden needs rest before heading out to fight an Archdemon.”

Smiling, Judith leaned her head against his shoulder, his warmth and strength calming and exciting her at the same time. “And rest is what you’re offering? Why do I doubt that?” she said softly.

Daniel’s mouth found her ear and then her neck, as she tilted her head to the side to give him better access. Both hands caught her waist, holding her as he pressed his body against hers. 

“Who needs rest?” Judith moaned, pushing back against him. “Do you think … it’s time to leave?”

Breathing heavily, he said, “The King and Queen left some time ago. They looked as though—well, I don’t think they’ll be able to claim the marriage hasn’t been consummated.” 

“Good for them,” she whispered. “The rest of my team is gone, too, off to bed. Their own or someone else’s,” she sighed, feeling Daniel’s hands move around to caress her stomach through her gown.

“They set a good example,” he muttered huskily. Disentangling his arms from around her, he took her hand, leading her out of the room. “I could wish our bedroom at Eamon’s wasn’t so far away,” he said. Judith laughed as they made their way out of the Palace and into the night. It was warm out, and the darkness and heat surrounded them, pressing on them deliciously.

The wet, hot night; the heightened emotions of the day; the tension thrumming in her as she tried to prepare for the final battle; and the loved, needed presence of the man beside her all combined, and Judith felt desire spreading through her, weakening her knees and making her pulse race. Her eyes scanned the area, and she led Daniel down an alley, turning to face him, her back to the wall. Her hands slid down his shirt, into his pants, finding and caressing him. Daniel groaned. “I can’t wait,” Judith said, pulling him closer.

“You’re sure?”

“Now, Daniel, now,” she said, pulling up her skirts. Their mouths met, Daniel fumbling at his pants, lifting her against the wall. Judith cried out when he thrust into her, wrapping her legs around his waist. The openness of the location, the knowledge that there might be few opportunities after this to be together, added to the frenzy as they coupled like wild creatures there against the wall.


	45. Realization

Later—much later—in their bedroom at Arl Eamon’s estate, Daniel lay in the midst of their sheets. Judith was tucked into his side, her head on his chest, her hair spread out across him. She was nearly asleep, the only indication that she wasn’t there yet the occasional small noises as she cuddled closer.

Daniel supposed he should sleep, too, but something was bothering him. And why shouldn’t it, with Judith and her team off tomorrow to Redcliffe to take on the Archdemon and its horde? He worried for them, traveling through country overrun and occupied by darkspawn. Lothering was gone, the whole town razed and burnt down. A noble whose name he didn’t remember had complained that the crops from the Southron Hills were so trampled and tainted he didn’t know how he would feed his people this winter. Bann Sighard of Dragon’s Peak had complained that the darkspawn were beginning to encroach on his lands, as well.

Suddenly he saw it, plain as day, as if the map of Ferelden hung in front of his eyes. Lothering; the Southron Hills; Dragon’s Peak. The darkspawn were moving! North and east—toward Denerim!

“Judith,” he said. “Judith, wake up!”

The urgency in his voice pulled her from the doze she’d dropped into, but not all the way. “Mmm?” she mumbled against his chest. “Too sleepy, love. Morning.”

“No, Judith, I see it now!”

“See what?” She lifted her head, blinking at him sleepily.

“The darkspawn. Judith, why are you going to Redcliffe?”

She sat up, the question slowly penetrating the fog in her brain. “Because—because Riordan said that was the nearest town to where the darkspawn were massing.” She yawned heavily. “It seemed the most likely place for them to attack.”

“But why? What do they gain from attacking Redcliffe?”

“They’re darkspawn. They gain … whatever darkspawn gain.” She shrugged, pulling the blankets up around her.

“Surely they have a plan,” he said urgently. “Even darkspawn have to have some tactics. The Archdemon wants something, and he’s not going to get it at Redcliffe. Look, Judith—they’ve taken Lothering. Some bann or another was complaining that his fields in the Southron Hills are tainted. Dragon’s Peak has the darkspawn nibbling at its edges. Don’t you see? They’re not going to Redcliffe. They’re coming here, to Denerim!”

“What? No, that’s not possible. We would know.” She smiled at him affectionately. “You have Denerim’s safety on the brain, my darling. Go to sleep.”

“Think about it, Judith. Denerim is the capitol of Ferelden. To take out Denerim is to … cut the heart out of the country.”

“You and your city,” she said, but the conviction was lacking. As she considered her lover’s words, she had to admit they rang true. 

“You know it, though, don’t you?” he said. He took her hands in his. “Judith, none of you have been paying attention to the movements of the darkspawn. Loghain’s been trying to make money and capture you; you’ve been trying to gather your armies and outwit Loghain. How would you know if they were coming this way? You’ve been here!”

“I have,” she said slowly. “But … Riordan said …”

“Riordan’s been in Howe’s dungeon. How would he know where they are?”

Judith put her hands to her hair, absently twisting it up into its usual bun. “Oh, Daniel,” she said. “You may well be right.” She sat there in bed for a few moments, mulling over the possibilities. Then she groaned. 

“What is it?”

“They’re all going to kill me.” She climbed out of bed, lighting the candle in the sconce and reaching for her mage robes. 

“Who’s going to kill you?”

“Everyone I’m about to get out of bed,” she snapped. “Stay here, please. We’ll be back.”

She left the room hastily, moving down the hall, knocking on doors.

Daniel got dressed as well. Slowly they began to trickle in. Oghren, a wild gleam in his eyes, alternately pulling from his mug and trying to tell Daniel all about the red-headed elf in his bed. Daniel tried hard not to listen. Sten was next, standing next to the door silently. Then Zevran, fully armored and alert. Wynne, sleepily rubbing her eyes. Morrigan, disapproving. Leliana, looking flushed and surprisingly content. Alistair, of course, was at the Palace. He’d have to be brought up to speed in the morning.

Judith came in after Leliana. “Sorry to … er, wake you all.” Several members of the company blushed or chuckled, indicating that they hadn’t exactly been asleep. “Daniel spent some time tonight talking to the nobles, and he says from what they told him, it appears the darkspawn are moving this way, instead of gathering near Redcliffe as we had thought they might. He makes a case I can’t ignore. Therefore, what I plan to do is split the company. Half will go to Redcliffe, half will stay here, so that we can cover both possibilities.” 

“Have we proof of this movement?” Morrigan looked sharply perturbed. “Are we changing our entire strategy because you were pleased in the bedchamber?”

“The Captain has a point, _amiga_ ,” Zev said. “I, too, was listening this evening, and it sounds as though the darkspawn are moving, quite possibly this direction.”

Shooting an irritated glance at Morrigan, Judith said, “It makes enough sense that I’m not willing to leave the city without a Grey Warden and team to help in its protection.” At the questioning gazes directed toward her, she waved a hand impatiently. “If someone other than a Grey Warden kills the Archdemon, the tainted Old God seeks out another darkspawn and makes a new Archdemon. Long story, Grey Warden secrets, you all know the drill. So Alistair will stay here. Wynne, Sten, I want you both to stay as well.”

“Of course,” Wynne said. “I shall help wherever I am most needed.”

“It is a good plan. I approve,” Sten said briefly.

“Zev, you, too.” 

The Antivan nodded, flashing an impudent grin in Daniel’s direction. “Are you sure you want to leave such temptation unattended within my reach?”

Daniel and Judith both rolled their eyes. “I’ll take that risk,” she said.

Sidling closer to Daniel, Zev murmured, “Ah, what fun we shall have.”

“Looking forward to it, Zev,” Daniel deadpanned. “I’m sure my recruits could give you quite a … workout.”

Zev looked horrified, and everyone laughed. 

When the laughter had subsided, Judith went on, “Morrigan, Oghren, Leliana, you’ll be with me, and Sam, of course.” The mabari would be glad to get out of the kennels and back to war, she thought. 

“No.”

The word caught Judith by surprise, and she turned to the witch. “What?”

“No. I will not go to Redcliffe.”

“Mutiny, Morrigan?”

“No,” Morrigan said. “I respect your leadership, except that I will not go to Redcliffe.”

Judith stared at the apostate, open-mouthed. Then she threw up her hands. “Fine. Stay in Denerim,” she said. She didn’t have the energy to argue with Morrigan, and wouldn’t be likely to get a straight answer out of the witch if she asked for an explanation anyway. “All right, are we clear, then?” There were nods. “All right, you can all go back to bed.”

Leliana and Oghren left quickly. Wynne paused, one hand on Judith’s shoulder. “My dear, please take care of yourself. Don’t take foolish risks—we need you in one piece.”

“I won’t do anything you wouldn’t do,” Judith said, grinning affectionately at her teacher.

“I know,” Wynne said. “That’s what worries me.” She smiled back, and the two women embraced.

“ _Amiga_ , I understand why you should choose to leave behind the awesomeness that is Zev,” the assassin said, “but do your best to avoid those who are trying to kill you.”

“Same to you, Zev.” Judith hugged the assassin, as well. 

She didn’t hug Sten, who merely stared at her, unblinking. “Kadan. Do not die.”

“I’ll do my best. As will you, I hope.”

“Indeed.”

Morrigan was the last one out of the room. Judith looked at her sorrowfully. “I thought we’d achieved a level of trust, Morrigan. Can’t you tell me why you won’t leave?”

“It is nothing. Merely a … the foolish fears of a weak mortal.”

“I thought you were beyond that kind of thing, Morrigan,” Judith said skeptically.

Shrugging uncomfortably, Morrigan said, “As did I.” She left, her shoulders stiff. Judith stared after, feeling more unnerved by Morrigan’s odd behavior than anything else that had happened so far.

“What was that about?” Daniel asked.

“I don’t know. Keep an eye on her, will you? Anything that makes her act like that can’t be good news.”

“Will do.” Crossing the room, he folded her in his arms. “Leaving Alistair here, you must be hoping the Archdemon will go to Redcliffe.”

“I’m hoping the Archdemon will go back to the sodding Deep Roads where it came from and get out of my life,” she said, burying her face in his chest to hide the tears rolling down her cheeks. After a moment, she raised a tear-stained face to his. “I … I know I’m asking a lot of you …”

Daniel shook his head, rubbing his hand comfortingly over her back. “Don’t worry. I can do whatever you need me to.”

“Watch over Alistair? Make sure he … doesn’t do anything stupid. K-keep him from trying to kill the Archdemon if you can.” She looked away. “That should be for me to do. Ferelden will need him.”

Clenching his jaw against the protests that rose up in him—could he really save someone else just to watch her die?—Daniel nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

Judith drew his head down to hers, kissing him deeply. “You think I don’t know what I’m asking, but I do. And the fact that you can promise anyway is one of the many reasons I love you.”

“When this is all over …” Daniel began, but she shook her head.

“Don’t. Not now. Let me go into this without knowing … everything I stand to lose.” She smiled at him. “Just kiss me, will you?”

“As you command, my lady,” he said huskily, his arms tightening around her as though that way he could protect her from what was to come.


	46. Goodbyes

The next morning, as the first rays of light shone over the tops of Denerim’s buildings, Judith and Leliana waited by the well in the courtyard at Arl Eamon’s estate.

Daniel emerged from the estate, Sam at his heels and a tray filled with steaming cups of coffee balanced carefully in one hand. The mabari, ecstatic at his release after days cooped up in the kennels, leaped up, his paws on Judith’s shoulders. She laughed, rubbing his head. “Yes, good dog. Time to be back on the road.” 

Putting his paws back on the ground, Sam barked, racing eagerly toward the entrance to the courtyard and back. 

“Not yet, buddy. We’re waiting for Oghren.”

Sam barked again, two short sharp sounds that clearly conveyed disapproval.

“I know, what are you gonna do?” Judith said. “Why don’t you go get him, then?”

One more assenting bark, and Sam barrelled back to the door, which Kylon had left ajar. Sliding his nose inside, Sam opened the door and went inside the estate.

Judith and Leliana gratefully accepted cups of coffee off the tray. It was still a bit too hot to drink. Judith blew across it carefully—more than once, she’d overshot the level of cold and wound up with a block of coffee ice instead of a perfectly cooled up. This time she got it just right, though. She took a deep swallow. The sensation wasn’t unlike lyrium, only less intoxicating and more energizing. 

“It’s a good thing you haven’t been with us on our travels,” Leliana said to Daniel in her musical voice, sipping her coffee. “We might have gotten quite spoiled.”

“I wish he was coming with us now,” Judith said wistfully, smiling up at Daniel. 

“I’ll be here when you get back, prepared to spoil you for the rest of your life,” he said. He took a seat next to Judith on the edge of the well.

Judith shivered. She didn’t like to think about it—her whole being was focused on getting to the Archdemon, and she worried that if she thought about a life with Daniel after the Blight, she’d never have the strength to take the final blow. Shifting slightly, she snuggled into his side, taking comfort in his presence as long as she could.

After a few minutes, Oghren stumbled out, his armor hanging off him unbuckled in several places, his red hair sticking up wildly all over, eyes at half-mast. But in the hand that wasn’t holding up his pants, he held the ever-present mug of ale. Coming to a stop in front of them, he tilted it up, drinking noisily, and finished off with a huge belch. After that his eyes opened up and he grinned widely. 

“Heck of a mornin’, ya blighters! Now, where’s this Archdemon? Let’s smash him!” 

Judith shook her head, trying to breathe through her mouth. The smell of him was overpowering, to say the least. “Oghren, glad you could join us. Have a nice night, did you?”

He chuckled, rubbing his hands together, which caused him to let his pants drop. Everyone stared at him, disgusted but unable to look away from the blue ribbon tied around little Oghren. “Oh, yeah,” Oghren said, nodding his head proudly. “First prize. Heh. Sodding elf is like taking a whole nest of deepstalkers to bed. Wanta see the bites?”

“No!” Judith said hastily. “Oghren, for the love of Andraste—or the Stone, if you prefer—please, pull your pants up.”

“I see,” Oghren said. “Don’t want your pet nug-humper here gettin’ jealous, do ya? Ain’t ever’body can be hung like a dwarf,” he sighed, tucking himself lovingly back into his pants. He grinned up at Leliana. “You didn’t come home alone last night.”

Leliana flushed, but there was a twinkle in her blue eyes that Judith hadn’t seen in some time.

“Do tell,” Judith said. “I thought it was hard to get your attention for our late-night meeting. Who were you with?”

“Can’t a girl have any secrets?” Leliana said plaintively.

“In this group?” Judith asked. She looked pointedly in the direction of Oghren’s now-thankfully-covered bits. “I should think it’s just been amply proven that we don’t believe in privacy.”

“’Amply’?” Oghren sniffed, offended. “Sight more than ample, if ya ask me.”

Ignoring him, Judith smiled at Leliana. “You don’t have to tell if you don’t want to.”

Still blushing, Leliana said softly, “Bann Alfstanna.”

“Bann--?” The implications sunk in. From what Leliana had—and hadn’t—said about Marjolaine, Judith wasn’t entirely surprised, but the name wasn’t what she expected. Truthfully, she’d thought it might be Teagan. “Well, good for you. Are you going to see her again?”

Leliana looked slightly relieved. “That depends on the Blight, does it not?”

“Good on ya, Red!” Oghren said. “Love to hear all about it, two ladies bangin’ on each other. Ah, if Branka had only told me, the times we coulda had …” His voice trailed off.

Daniel stared at the dwarf in confusion. Judith, seeing the look, grinned and nudged him. “If you’re bored sometime while we’re gone, get Alistair to try and tell you the story of Branka. Preferably in front of Zev. Should make for some very amusing conversation.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said.

As if her words called him up, Alistair appeared at the gates. “Am I late? Sorry,” he said, blushing slightly. Then he looked around the courtyard. “Wait, it’s past sunrise. Where is everyone?”

Leliana got up, murmuring something about checking the supplies, and wandered over to the other side of the courtyard where the piles of packs were.

“Slight change in plans,” Judith said to the still-bewildered Alistair. “You’re not coming.”

He frowned. “What do you mean, I’m not coming? I thought I made it clear that I’m still a Grey Warden, and I will be part of this army.” His fists clenched.

Judith was unruffled by his anger. “It’s a bit more complicated than that, actually. Apparently, there are some indications that the horde isn’t going to Redcliffe. There’s reason to believe they’re coming here.”

Alistair paled. “To Denerim?” He looked around him, listening to the bustle of the city. “There are thousands of people here! And our armies are in Redcliffe.”

“I know that,” Judith snapped impatiently. “That’s why you’re staying here, Your Majesty. To calm your people, to get as many of them out of here as you can, and to fight that sodding Archdemon if it gets here and I’m in Redcliffe. I’m leaving some of the others here with you, to help prepare the city.”

He straightened, looking at her seriously. “I understand.” 

Judith turned her head, looking for the others. “Oghren, Leliana, Sam, let’s get started.” She turned back to Alistair. “My friend, you know what this means.”

“If the Archdemon comes here, I will do what needs to be done. Have no worries.”

“I don’t want you to be the one to die.”

“I’m not afraid. Anora will be a good queen if I’m killed, and it’s … my duty. I’d rather it be me than you, anyway,” he said. “You’ve done enough. You deserve as much of a happy life as you can have.” He held his arms open and Judith rushed into them. They embraced fiercely for a moment. 

“Alistair, in case … There’s no one I’d rather have done all this with.”

“Same here, my sister.” He kissed her gently on the forehead. 

They came apart, Judith swiping at an errant tear. Alistair looked uncomfortably around, nodding at Oghren. His eyes met Leliana’s. Both flushed, but they smiled at each other, muttering well-wishes. 

Daniel took Judith in his arms, kissing her again. She looked up at him, caressing his face. “I never expected anyone like you to come into my life,” she said. “Mages don’t generally get this lucky.”

“I’m the lucky one,” he said. He drew her closer to him, holding him tightly. “And if—“

She cut him off, her hand over his lips. “Let’s just be grateful for what we’ve had,” she said. “If—I come back, there’ll be time enough then.” Tearing herself out of his arms, Judith walked toward the gates, not looking back. 

Then the Redcliffe group set off, an urgency to their steps that had never been there before. Every step that took Judith away from the two men she was leaving in Denerim seemed harder than the last, as she worried whether she’d done the right thing.


	47. Planning

With Judith gone, Kylon and Alistair looked at each other helplessly for moment. Then Kylon said, “Have you eaten, Your Majesty?”

“Alistair,” the other man corrected automatically. “And yes. No. Not enough?”

“Right, the famous Grey Warden appetite. Let’s go see what we can scare up, and then we can make plans,” Kylon said, leading the way into Eamon’s estate. It felt strange to be so comfortable here in a noble’s home, but Judith had been, and Alistair, and what did it all matter now, anyway, with the Blight here and the horde coming? Eamon and his wife were at the palace now, anyway, as it appeared Eamon was to act as Alistair’s chancellor.

They sat down to a makeshift meal, joined by Wynne and Zev. Sten and Morrigan were nowhere to be seen.

“So,” Kylon began. “As I see it, our tasks are these: evacuating as much of the city as we can, preparing defenses, and holding the fort until the Commander returns.”

“Sounds about right,” Alistair said around a mouthful of cold biscuit and bacon.

“It seems most efficient to split up, one team tackling evacuations and one fortifications.” Kylon looked at Alistair. “As the Grey Warden in residence, and the King, I assume you’ll want to oversee both?”

Alistair nodded, swallowing. “I think I should focus more on the evacuation side, try to get to know and reassure the people. But I’ll want you to keep me informed as to what you’re doing with the defenses.” He looked around the table. “Wynne, perhaps you would come with me? You can be all grandmotherly, or all stern schoolteacher, as needed.”

“Well, as long as my roles are so temptingly laid out before me,” the mage said. She smiled affectionately at Alistair to soften her words.

“In that case, maybe Zev could come with me? And Sten, as well,” Kylon added reflectively. “A giant scowling qunari might be just the thing to whip my recruits into shape.”

“And what of Morrigan?” Wynne asked. “Where does she enter into the picture?”

“Why is she here?” Alistair asked, scowling. He and the apostate still rarely had a civil word for each other.

“Morrigan refused to accompany our beautiful Grey Warden to Redcliffe,” Zev explained. “She gave no reason, simply said ‘no’.”

“Well, that sounds … disturbing,” Alistair said. He put his fork down. “That can’t be good at all.”

“How generously you view me, Alistair,” Morrigan said coolly, coming into the room behind him. “Perhaps my reasons are not so sinister as you anticipate.”

“Yes,” Alistair murmured, “and perhaps the Archdemon is simply coming for a tea party.” He glared at her.

“And so I take it that Morrigan accompanying you and Alistair as you try to evacuate the populace isn’t a good idea?” Kylon said to Wynne.

As the mage shook her head, Alistair said, “Oh, I think that’s a great idea. Morrigan will come along and everyone will want to leave.”

Sitting down and buttering a slice of toast, Morrigan said, “That assumes that they did not all leave already upon learning that you were to be their new King.”

“All right, then,” Kylon said, wondering to himself how Judith had managed to get them this far without freezing someone’s tongue off. “Morrigan, maybe you could … keep an eye out for the vanguard of the horde. You can turn into a bird, yes?”

“A raven,” Morrigan corrected pointedly.

“Right, a raven. Could you fly around the outskirts of the city so that you can give us some warning when they’re approaching?”

“You really think they’re coming here,” Alistair said, as if the idea was just sinking in. He dropped his last bite of toast onto his plate. “Is that why you let her go?”

“I think she went to get the armies. No one would have believed a messenger,” Kylon said. He had an image of Judith on the road, meeting the oncoming darkspawn horde with only a few companions, and shuddered. “I hope she gets through all right.”

Everyone was quiet at the table for a moment, all of them picturing the mental image Kylon had just seen. Immediately breakfast was over. Everyone pushed back their chairs and went about their business.

Alistair looked helplessly at Wynne. “Where should we start? Denerim is so big, how do we know who to evacuate first?”

Wynne pursed her lips, looking thoughtful. Then, as her gaze shifted over Alistair’s shoulder, she brightened. “First, I think, we start with the Alienage.” She strode purposefully past him, intercepting the red-headed elf before she could sneak out the front door.

“Maker’s balls,” Shianni snapped. “Is where I spend the night everyone’s business?”

“Well,” Wynne said with some amusement, “where you spent last night is not. Where you spend tonight certainly is.”

“What in the name of Andraste’s bouncing boobs are you talking about?” 

Alistair stepped forward, and Shianni blanched, recognizing the King. “Shianni, we need you to take a message to the other elves of the Alienage. The …” He hesitated for a moment, then took the plunge. “The darkspawn might be headed here.”

“Right,” Shianni scoffed. King or not, the elves wouldn’t be run out of Denerim on some flimsy rumor. “And I’m the Grand Cleric.”

“Well, Your Grace,” Alistair snapped, “either you can believe me, or you can go sit home thinking you were too smart for the King and watch the darkspawn take over the Alienage. I suppose that’s really your call, isn’t it? But it would be a shame for the Tevinters to be driven out only to be replaced by the tainted horde.”

Shianni’s eyes widened and her face paled. “Maker,” she breathed. “You’re serious. You think they’re coming here.”

“We do,” Wynne said. “Please, go back to the Alienage, start packing.”

“But … if they’re coming here, and they’ve already been in the south—everyone knows about Lothering—where do we go?”

“North,” Alistair said. “Amaranthine, Highever. And Shianni?”

The elf looked up at him, hysteria beginning to form in her face.

“Do it calmly. If we panic, fewer people will be able to flee the city, and more people will die. Tell your people to pack calmly—and lightly—and go quietly. If you move fast, you’ll be the first ones out, less likely to get trampled by a frantic mob.”

Shianni blinked a few times, taking hold of herself with an obvious effort. “Thank you, sire,” she said. “Most would have left us behind. We may not all go—some of our elders are reluctant to leave their homes for any reason—but it is good to have timely warning.”

She left hurriedly. Wynne looked at Alistair. “Where to next, Your Majesty?”

“Alistair,” he said impatiently. “To the palace. Anora … I have to tell her. She has to get out of here.”

Wynne nodded, following him as he strode through the entry hall and out the door.


	48. Recruits

Kylon walked into the barracks, throwing the door open with a loud bang. Several recruits stirred in their beds, a couple sitting up. “Wha’?” asked one, opening a bleary eye.

“Rise and shine!” Kylon called. “The time has come to fight for your country.”

There was a decided lack of movement after those stirring words, and Kylon kicked the bed of the nearest recruit, who fell out and lay on the floor, groaning.

“This is what you will save the city with?” Sten asked with a sneer, looking around him.

“Yes,” Kylon said. “This is what Loghain and Howe left me with. Think you can work with them?”

Sten’s jaw shifted. “I have seen worse.”

“The Crows could do wondrous things with these men, my friend,” Zev said, and Kylon saw the steel of the assassin in his eyes.

“Let’s do it, then,” he said. 

Shouting like the finest drill sergeants, the three of them went down the rows of beds, kicking those still sleeping onto the floor. Those who weren’t still sleeping were caught, usually by Zev, whose flirtatious demeanor was completely missing today, and dragged into line in front of the beds. When all Kylon’s recruits were in a more or less straight line down the center of the room, he stood before them, hands behind his back.

“Wake up!” he shouted. “You’re all damned lucky it wasn’t the Archdemon knocking on the door this morning. But tomorrow it could well be. And if you don’t shape up, you’re all going to die.”

He paused, watching some of the more alert faces pale. Raleigh, the farmer he’d met in the streets, sneered at the rest of them. “Pampered fancy boys,” he said. “Don’t know nothin’ ‘bout darkspawn. They’ll have a mighty rare meal here,” he said.

“Thank you, Raleigh,” Kylon said. “The man’s right,” he said to the rest of the recruits. “And if you don’t believe me, ask any one of the refugees you see on the streets. You think they’re here for their health? Because squatting in Denerim’s alleys is better than living on their own farms? They’re here because they thought it was the only safe place to be. And we are here to protect them and defend this city, and to stop the Blight!”

Silence. Even those few recruits who seemed to grasp the severity of the problem said nothing. At last, Sten said, “Perhaps it would be best to just kill them all now and get better recruits.”

“I have seen small children who inspired more confidence,” Zev said. “I was one myself.”

“All right, men,” Kylon said, “if fear for your own lives isn’t enough to motivate you, will you really stand here and allow the honor of Ferelden to be scoffed at by a qunari and an Antivan?” He cast an apologetic glance at his companions. “Is this what Ferelden is? Men too debauched to do their duty, too weak to raise a sword in defense of their homelands, too afraid to get their hands dirty?”

The recruits shuffled a bit, many of them standing straighter. At last one of them spoke up. “I’ll not stand here and be insulted when there’s a chance to raise my sword to prove my fighting skill,” he said. “I could take a knife-ear and a mindless mountain of a qunari any day.” 

There was an approving rumble from the troops. The man who had spoken, Dake, was a big man who liked to go around asking ladies to squeeze his muscles. He was known among the rest of the troops for his prowess with women—proven—and with weapons—known only in rumors. Kylon suspected Dake himself had spread the rumors. He was looking forward to this match.

The whole troop of them walked out to the practice ground, where Dake, hefting his broadaxe easily, stood staring at his opponents with a smug, challenging look in his eyes. Zev was openly grinning, and even Sten’s features were arranged in what passed for a smile. 

“It is the last chance,” Zev called. “Both of us at once … few are so foolhardy as to think they can stand against such an attack.”

“Put up or shut up, elf,” sneered Dake. 

By the time he had finished the sentence, Zev had crossed the field and was hovering in front of Dake, lunging easily forward with his dagger. Dake knocked the blow away, blinking dazedly and taking a step backward. Clearly he hadn’t expected Zev to be so fast.

While Zev was distracting the recruit, Sten had moved forward with surprising speed for a man of his size. He swung his sword as Dake’s arm came up, their blades clashing. Dake pushed the sword away with the axe and whirled to where Zevran had just been. Dake was highly confused, as the elf danced here and there, darting in with a dagger thrust or swinging his sword lightly. Meanwhile, Sten aimed heavy, solid blows at the recruit’s head. Dake had all he could do to keep up with both of them.

At last Dake stumbled and fell. He hadn’t had the chance to take a single swing at either man. The two of them had toyed with him, enjoying the game, keeping him too busy responding to their blows to try and strike one of his own. He sat, panting and exhausted, in the middle of the practice ground, the other recruits staring at him in dismay.

“Not so easy as you expected,” Kylon observed. He walked over to Dake and held out a hand, helping the recruit up. Still breathing heavily, Dake took his place in line with the rest of the group. Kylon addressed the rest of them now. “Is everyone convinced that these fighters know what they’re doing?” There were nods and grunts. “Does anyone else think they have a chance against either of these men?” Silence. “A good answer. Sten and Zevran and I will be your trainers.” He glared at some of the more prejudiced recruits. “These men are to be addressed by name. The next man I hear utter the term ‘knife-ear’, or anything like it, won’t need to worry about being killed by darkspawn.” There were a scattered few “Yes, ser!”s in response. “Obviously, darkspawn do not approach the skill these men have been acquiring while you all sat here with doxies on your knees and mugs of ale in your hands, but even the tainted horde is better than many of you. We’re going to work you until I can’t say that any longer.” He looked slowly up and down the line. “And if any of you have complaints … well, you know what waits for you outside Denerim. You’re welcome to try that fate any time you think you’re men enough.”

No one moved. With a satisfied nod, Kylon began sorting men into training groups.  
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
As they approached the palace, Alistair and Wynne could see nobles’ carriages beginning to pull away, rumbling over the cobblestones in the streets, as the nobles returned to their lands. Alistair noted that most of them had outriders, and hoped those inside the carriages were armed as well. 

Inside the palace, he chose the nearest servant, with an inward sigh of annoyance at how they all immediately dropped what they were doing to kneel to him—a problem he could address later. The servant led him to the King’s—his, he realized—study, where he hastily penned a note to the front gate, authorizing them to let anyone, including and especially elves, out of the city who wished to go, and to admit no one without express permission from the King or Queen or the Warden Commander. 

As the messenger scurried off, Alistair strode toward the chambers he had shared with Anora the previous night, only to be startled when she popped out of a door behind him.

“My liege?” came the quiet, modulated voice. “Are you seeking me?”

Wynne, trailing along behind the young man, noted with amusement the flush that came over his face as Alistair turned toward his bride. “I was,” he said.

“I am surprised to see you still here,” Anora noted. 

“There have been some changes to the plans,” Alistair said. He walked toward her, gathering her hands in his, a gesture that appeared to take Anora by surprise. “It appears that the darkspawn are coming here.”

“Here? But—I thought they were going to Redcliffe.”

“So did we all. But Captain Kylon—you know who he is?” Anora nodded. “He was talking to people last night, put a few things together, and … it seems they’re heading this way.”

“Where is Judith?”

“On her way to Redcliffe, to fight the Archdemon if it’s there, or to get our armies if the horde is coming here. She left me here so there would be a Grey Warden in the city in case the Archdemon shows up before I get back.”

Anora looked at him, more questions on the tip of her tongue, then thought better of them. 

“I thought you should …” Alistair began, then stopped himself as Anora’s soft lips tightened in response to his words. He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I’m not here to tell you what to do.”   
Anora gave a sudden and—to Wynne, at least—surprising smile. “Thank you.”

“I have to stay here,” Alistair went on. “But I want you to be safe, and I think it makes sense if one of us leaves the city, so that if it falls … the country still has its queen. Do you agree?”

Putting her hand on his arm, Anora said, “What of you? Will you be safe?”

Alistair bit his lip. “It’s hard to say,” he said. “I’ll be … happier if I think you’re safe.” The admission surprised him as much as it did Anora.

“Your plan is a good one,” Anora said. She raised on her toes and kissed him on the cheek. “Be safe, my husband.”

His arms went around her, drawing her close for a moment. “And you, my wife,” he said. With a last squeeze, he let her go, watching as she scurried down the hallway.


	49. Dalish

With Leliana at the front and Oghren bringing up the rear, Judith’s group moved along the road with as much haste as possible. They ran into refugees everywhere. At first, Judith wasted precious time trying to stop and persuade the refugees to turn in a different direction, to head north and west, theorizing that whether the darkspawn were in Redcliffe or Denerim, the northern coast was the safest place, but it was almost impossible to shake the idea of Denerim as safe haven from their minds. Finally Judith threw up her hands, aware that getting to her armies quickly would save more lives than stopping every ten steps to argue with the refugees.

Signs of darkspawn increased the farther they got from the city—the black wilted grass, bodies beginning to decay, piles of rubble everywhere. Of the darkspawn themselves, they saw nothing. Of course, it was bright daylight, and the darkspawn tended to be more nocturnal. 

The stream of refugees was so heavy in places that they had to turn off the road and move through the forest in order to get anywhere. During one such turnoff, Leliana was cautiously finding her way amongst a tangle of old tree branches when an elf dropped lightly from a tree ahead of her. His gaze passed over Leliana and moved over her shoulder, settling on Judith. “The Grey Warden?”

“Yes,” Judith said, moving forward. She noted the tattoos on his face, marking him as one of the Dalish, but she didn’t recognize him.

“Will you please come with me?” he said. “Our Keeper has a wish to see you.”

“I’m in a bit of a hurry,” she said doubtfully.

“We know.” With that, the elf turned and began walking away, clearly confident that they would follow him. Judith and Leliana exchanged a glance, then shrugged and fell into line behind the elf.

Farther into the forest, a large group of Dalish hunters moved quickly but silently. Judith noticed they were heading north and east, in the direction of Denerim. At the center of the group, she recognized Lanaya, Keeper of the clan they had met previously. 

Lanaya smiled as Judith approached. “I wondered if one of my scouts might find you.”

“I’m a bit surprised to find you,” Judith said. “Pleased, but surprised.”

“I know, we were to wait for you at Redcliffe,” Lanaya said, “but our scouts were telling us a different story. We tried to get word to you, but,” she shrugged, “no one would listen to us.”

“Some day when this is all over, we’ll work toward getting more rights and respect for your people,” Judith said. “In the meantime, I take it you decided when you couldn’t explain the situation to anyone else, you’d just take off and be where you were needed?”

“Something like that,” Lanaya said. “The horde is moving up the coast, but relatively slowly, as they keep stopping to pillage.”

“Great,” Judith said. “So the good news is, if we move fast, we might catch them, and the bad news is that they’re ravaging the countryside.”

Lanaya nodded, her eyes steady on Judith’s face.

Judith sighed. “You’re doing the right thing,” she said. “We had reason to believe, as well, that they were coming to Denerim instead of going to Redcliffe. I’m glad at least one set of our allies is going to get to Denerim in time. If—I’ve tried to convince the refugees to turn west, but have had little luck. I’m trying to get them to go towards Highever. Do you know where that is?” She realized the Dalish may well not know much about human geography. She hadn’t known, either, until after Ostagar, when she’d had to get herself a map and learn fast. A mage in the Tower didn’t need to know the locations of all the places she’d never be visiting.

“I’ve heard of it,” Lanaya said. “North coastlands, yes?”

“Yes. If you can convince anyone to go that way, it would help. But don’t waste time on it. When you get to Denerim, seek out Alistair, the other Grey Warden. Remember him?” 

Lanaya laughed. “How could I forget? He blushed all the while he was in our camp … clearly, he’d never seen Dalish armor before.”

Judith grinned, remembering how Alistair’s eyes had followed the Dalish hunters in their midriff-baring armor, and how hard he’d tried to hide his interest. “Well, he’s the King now.”

“This is the way you humans joke, is it?” Lanaya asked, raising her eyebrows.

“No, no joke. He’s married to the Queen and is in Denerim, in charge of the city’s defenses.”

Lanaya shook her head in surprise. “Will wonders never cease.”

“Apparently not.” The smile fading from her face, Judith said, “Find Alistair when you get to the city. Tell him to shut the gates, turn people away. Better that than have them slaughtered inside the city.” 

“I will do so,” Lanaya said. “Be safe, Grey Warden.”

“And you, Keeper,” Judith said. The two women went their separate ways, Judith feeling immensely heartened that the horde wasn’t the only army marching toward Denerim.


	50. Companionship

The city was humming as Kylon wearily made the journey from the barracks to Arl Eamon’s estate. In the days since Judith had left, Alistair and Wynne had been busy, warning the populace and urging people to move quickly but calmly out of the city and up toward the northern coast. Now the air was filled with sounds of carts moving through the streets and people hammering thin slabs of wood over windows and doors in an attempt to keep their homes from being violated by darkspawn—or looters. Kylon, with Sten and Zev, had spent many hours every day drilling and training their recruits. A few had disappeared, slipping away at night to flee the city or simply avoid having to work or fight, but most had stayed, and under the stern gaze of the qunari and the assassin were becoming a half-decent troop. 

Arl Eamon’s estate was practically deserted. The Arl and his family, with many of their servants, had left the city. Eamon intended to escort Connor and Isolde to the Circle Tower, where Connor would begin instruction as a mage and where the Arl hoped Isolde might also find refuge when he went on to Redcliffe. To say that the Arl hadn’t believed the Archdemon could be coming to Denerim seemed to Kylon to be an overstatement … but Kylon and Alistair’s growing convictions hadn’t been enough to convince him, either. 

Sten and Morrigan tended to disappear at night, neither comfortable in Eamon’s luxurious home, and Zev used the nights as opportunities to melt into the small crowds that remained, keeping his ears open and, Kylon suspected, finding various amorous entanglements to involve himself in. This left Kylon, Wynne, and Alistair, who found the palace oppressive and was glad of the chance to just be a Grey Warden again for a little while, along with a cook and two servants. It made for a very quiet house most of the time.

Tonight Kylon had every intention of going straight to bed. He’d bury his face in the pillows and imagine the scent of Judith still clung to the sheets. He would try not to let thoughts of where she was, what she was doing, and if she was safe keep him lying awake staring at the ceiling. 

As he was on his way to his bedchamber, Kylon heard voices, and the sounds of silverware tapping against Eamon’s fine china plates. His stomach growled in response, and he altered course, heading for the dining room.

“I still can’t get used to the new wallpaper,” Alistair was saying. “When we used to visit here, it was painted this soft creamy yellow, just like butter on a biscuit. Oh, hello, Daniel,” he added, turning in his chair as Kylon came into the room.

“Never thought of you as someone who cared a lot about interior decorating,” Kylon said. He smiled at Wynne, who was carving a slice of cold roast beef into precise squares. “What’s next, will we need to paint all the buildings in Denerim to match your hair?” He took a chair, reaching for the platter of beef.

“It is a particularly attractive shade, don’t you think?” Alistair grinned, running a hand carefully through his hair.

“Oh, of course,” Kylon said dryly. He piled his plate with slices of bread and meat, although far less than was on Alistair’s. “After that, will we have to carpet all the streets, to match that thing you insist on growing on your chin?”

“Hey!” Alistair said, his hand going to the small goatee he was growing. His obsession with his hair apparently encompassed his facial hair, as well. He threw a grape across the table at Kylon.

Wynne sighed loudly. “Honestly, you boys are just like presiding over a table of apprentices.” A shadow crossed her face, and she cleared her throat, looking uncomfortable. “Daniel, that reminds me.”

“Mm-hm?” he mumbled through a mouthful of the cold meat.

“When I was last at the Tower, I took the opportunity to look up your sister in our records.”

Kylon swallowed the mouthful of food that suddenly seemed like a clod of earth in his mouth. He looked at Wynne expectantly, trying to prepare for the worst.

“It appears that your sister … escaped the Circle.”

“Escaped? Does that happen?”

Wynne smiled. “More often than the Templars would like to admit. It seems that your sister managed somehow to sneak into the warehouse in Denerim where the phylacteries are stored—“ 

“Phylacteries?” Kylon interrupted.

“Samples of each mage’s blood. The Templars keep them so they can track us if we go missing.”

Kylon shook his head. “Sounds like the kind of blood magic the Chantry is supposed to frown on.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Wynne sighed. “At any rate, your sister Melanie destroyed hers, and hasn’t been heard from since. In theory, she’s living somewhere as an apostate … but of course, if the Templars ever found her, they’d assume she must be a blood mage or an abomination, and there would be no questions asked. It’s not impossible that she has been killed at some point since she escaped.”

Kylon shook his head. “If I’d never met Judith, I’d be angry or upset that Melanie never thought to come find us … but now I know that the Circle teaches the mages that their families don’t want to see them—“

“Many don’t,” Wynne cut in sharply. “Most families are blind followers of the idea that magic is inherently evil, or at least tempts us to evil, and that all mages should be either killed or locked up in the Tower. Judith once told me her mother’s reaction the day she froze the water in the kettle to avoid having to eat porridge. Do you think a woman who could shun her small daughter for that would really want to see that same daughter show up as a powerful mage warrior? Fine, understanding men like you, Daniel, are few and far between.” She stood up, placing a hand on his shoulder. “What you have done for Judith has gone a long way toward giving her the confidence she needs to stop this Blight.” She smiled at both of them. “And now, if you two youngsters don’t mind, I’m going to take these old bones to bed. Someone has to be well-rested in case we’re to entertain an Archdemon tomorrow.”

Kylon stood up, holding out a hand to the elderly mage. “Thank you, Wynne. For remembering, and for telling me.”

She smiled at him with affection. “I wish it were better news.”

“It’s good enough,” he said. “Someday, when the Blight is over, I’ll want to sit down and ask you for details.”

“You’re thinking about trying to find her.”

“I want her to know that her family still wants her,” Kylon said. “Even if it’s too late for that to mean anything.”

Wynne squeezed his hand. “You’re a very good man, Daniel. When the Blight is over, I’ll tell you anything I can.”

“Thank you.”

“And now, I will find my bed. Don’t stay up too late, boys.” Her smile shone warmly on them. 

“We won’t,” Kylon and Alistair chorused. They sat in silence for a few moments after she left.

At last Alistair said, “Does it make a difference, knowing what happened with your sister?”

“Or knowing that no one really knows what happened, you mean?” Kylon said. He leaned back in his chair. “Yes and no. I’m disappointed that she’s not in the Tower where I could just go visit … but if she was, Judith would have known. I’m pleased that she’s not necessarily dead … but what will I tell my mother? Yes, Melanie might be alive, or she might have been cut down by the Templars, for every reason or for none, or she might be some kind of blood mage, and who’s to say?”

“I suppose that wouldn’t be too comforting,” Alistair agreed. “Where is your mother?”

“Highever. After a lifetime in Denerim, she married a butcher from Highever and moved there about three years ago. I see her occasionally. He treats her well, and she’s happy.” Kylon shrugged. “What more can you ask for, really?”

Alistair nodded. “My mother died when I was born.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me, too. She had a daughter, a woman named Goldanna—“

Kylon groaned.

“I see you know her.”

“Yes,” Kylon said cautiously.

“Oh, don’t worry. In the oh-so-brief chat we had, it became clear she’s a bit of a money-grubbing shrew.”

“To be fair, she has atrocious taste in men. I know her largely through having had to arrest her succession of ‘husbands’, over her loud protests.” Kylon’s eyes rested sympathetically on Alistair. “Not much of a family, though, is she?”

“No.” Alistair hesitated, then said almost shyly, “That’s why I’m trying to make this marriage with Anora … real. I never thought I’d be married, or have my own family, and realistically children are something of an impossible dream.” He looked sharply at Kylon. “You know that, right?”

Kylon nodded, again seeing in his mind’s eye a little blonde girl. It would be nice, he admitted to himself, but for Judith he’d happily do without.

Alistair nodded, too. “So you know that my producing an heir for Ferelden is pretty unlikely.” He smiled suddenly, a bitter little smile. “I was actually glad of the taint when I was with Leliana.” At Kylon’s questioning look, Alistair shrugged. “Given the … circumstances of my birth, and my life, I just … I never wanted to sire a bastard. I couldn’t bear the idea of a child growing up the way I did, unwanted and unloved.”

Thinking of all the parentless children that swarmed Denerim, living as best they could in alleys and doorways, scrounging food and more often than not ending their lives all too soon on the gallows, Kylon nodded. “It would be a better Thedas if more people thought that way,” he said. It occurred to him that perhaps, even if he and Judith couldn’t have children of their own, they could always take in some of those poor unwanted children. Not entirely the same, perhaps … but not entirely different, either. That is, if Judith survived the end of the Blight. Cold fear gripped his heart, and he closed his eyes, praying to Andraste to find some way that Judith wouldn’t have to die. Some loophole that could prevent her having to sacrifice herself in killing the Archdemon. But if there was such a thing, wouldn’t Riordan have mentioned it? For a moment, Kylon wished with all his might that the Archdemon would arrive in Denerim before she did, so that Alistair would have to be the sacrifice, and then he was overcome by a flush of guilt to be sharing a table with this perfectly nice young King and wishing for his death.

“More wine, Alistair?” He proffered the bottle, hoping to overcome his dark thoughts that way.

“Don’t mind if I do.” Alistair held out his glass, and the two men sat at the table long into the night, drinking wine and talking about trivialities they didn’t really care about, while around them Ferelden’s greatest city slowly became a ghost town.


	51. Siege

Redcliffe village was deserted. When they’d been there before, the town under siege by walking corpses, it had been quiet, but people remained. The militia drilling in front of the Chantry, or in and out of the inn drinking their courage; women and children occasionally poking their heads out of the Chantry doors. But all there were now were a few corpses, darkspawn and human. Judith’s skin prickled. She turned to ask her companions if they felt it, too, but of course they didn’t. She felt dreadfully alone without Alistair at her back, no other Grey Wardens to feel the approach of the darkspawn. Except Sam, whose ears laid back and he growled.

There were only a few darkspawn, feeding on the corpses, it looked like, and the four of them took the tainted creatures out with ease, moving up the hill toward the castle. As they approached the gates that guarded the pathway, an armored man came forward, crying out in relief.

“Grey Warden, is that you?”

“Yes,” Judith said, coming closer to him. She recognized him from their previous visits to the town, but couldn’t put a name to the face. “Where is everyone?”

“In the castle, ser! Darkspawn took over the town, but we got most of the women and children to safety. They’re laying siege to the gates now,” he said breathlessly. 

“Are the— Who’s here?” she asked.

“Bann Teagan, he’s in charge. The Arl isn’t back yet. But we’ve got all Redcliffe’s troops up there, plus a whole lot o’ dwarves, and some mages.” He shivered at the thought, obviously having forgotten he was talking to a mage. “Them Dalish took off, though. Said the horde wasn’t comin’ here. If this in’t the horde, what is it?” His wide eyes stared at Judith, and her heart flew into her throat. Was the horde here? Had she split her party for nothing, cost them the support of the Dalish?

“What of the dragon? The Archdemon? Have you seen it?”

The soldier shook his head wildly. “No, ser, no dragons. Is it really comin’ here?”

“Maybe, soldier.” She took pity at last on his obviously frantic state. “Take me up to the castle, let’s take care of that siege at the gates.”

He glanced at her party—two women, a dog, and an obviously drunk dwarf—with skepticism he made no effort to hide. “Yes, ser.”

As they neared the castle, they could hear the sounds of battle. A large band of darkspawn was swarming in front of the castle, although to Judith’s more experienced eye it was clear that this was not the majority of the darkspawn forces. A splinter group, maybe? She wondered where the warriors were. Then she saw an arrow fly into the open mouth of a genlock, and blast of electricity turn another into a dancing puppet before it fell to the ground, dead. She realized that archers and mages on the battlements were keeping most of the darkspawn at bay, arrows and spells keeping the attack uneven and faltering. They were trying to hold back and defeat the darkspawn with ranged weapons, saving their warriors until they were truly needed.

The biggest problem with that strategy, an especially large ogre, was pressing on the gates, which bowed under his weight. “Leliana!” she said, but she needn’t have. The bard was already letting an arrow go. It hit the ogre in the back of the head, and Judith saw him stagger. Those knockback arrows, as Leliana called them, were quite useful, Judith reflected. 

Oghren and Sam had rushed into the fray already, the dog’s teeth and the dwarf’s axe slicing into darkspawn flesh. While the ogre was distracted, Judith swirled her arms in the air above her head, tracing runes while calling them out in a thunderous voice. The air suddenly crackled with electricity, a dark cloud forming above the ogre’s head, obscuring its vision, and reaching out with electric fingers to zap the thing. The ogre roared, swatting at the cloud, while Judith sprinted forward with Spellweaver drawn. She used her momentum to leap into the air, sinking Spellweaver into the ogre’s throat, twisting the blade as the ogre fell. 

She turned her blade then to the nearest hurlock, slicing open its throat. Leliana was next to her, blades flashing in the sun, and Oghren’s war cry echoed over the field. They kept moving, aided by the arrows and spells from the battlements, until the last darkspawn had stopped. 

When the field was quiet, the lack of darkspawn sensation a pleasant relief in her skin, she felt a prickle of a different nature, and turned to see Riordan through the castle gates, his blue eyes shining on her. “Sister,” he said. “How good it is to see you here.”

“And you as well,” she said with some relief. “The Archdemon? Do you know where it is?”

The smile faded from Riordan’s bearded face. “Sadly, I do. And it is not here.”

“It’s going to Denerim, isn’t it?” She felt relieved, but worried for those she had left in the city.

Riordan looked surprised. “How do you know that?”

“Captain Kylon figured it out.”

“Ah. An intelligent man.”

“Highly,” she said with pride. “I left Alistair there, with some of the rest of my team, so there would be a Grey Warden on hand in case the Archdemon showed up.”

“More intelligence,” Riordan said. “You are the reason we must recruit more mages, my dear lady.” He made as if to bend over her hand, in instinctive gallantry, but Judith shook her head.

“We have to get back,” she said. “Alistair is the King of Ferelden—we must spare him if we can. One of us needs to be there, to kill the Archdemon.”

“I agree. Let me go at once. I can move faster than the rest of the armies, and they will require you to lead them. We must also spare you, if we can. The Wardens will need you.”

Flushing, Judith looked away. She was just a mage who’d been manipulated into becoming a Warden and was trying to do her duty, she thought. “Very well,” she said to Riordan. “We’ll be as close behind you as we can be.”

“Take care, sister.”

“And you,” she said, watching him as he headed out through the gates. When he was gone, she turned to Leliana and Oghren. “Come on, let’s go in. Time’s wasting.”

They found Bann Teagan inside the castle, looking restless. She’d heard his voice up on the battlements, encouraging the mages and archers. Now he seemed at loose ends, and he turned to her with relief. “Grey Warden! I’ve never been so happy to see someone!”

“Troubles?” Judith asked.

“Not so many now that you’ve taken out the darkspawn, but I’ve been stranded here with no information. Is this the horde? Are there more? What about the Archdemon?”

“No, this isn’t the horde, and the Archdemon is here. They’re on their way to Denerim. Didn’t Riordan tell you that?”

“No one tells me anything! What happened with Alistair? The Landsmeet? Is he—“ He looked over her shoulder, counting companions. “Alistair’s not dead, is he?”

Judith shook her head, filling the Bann in on everything he’d missed.

“And Alistair and Anora are married?” Teagan shook his head. “The things that happen while I’m stuck here gathering the army. Next Blight, I’m definitely going to Denerim.”

“Next Blight, you can be the Grey Warden, and I’ll stay home,” Judith said, laughing a little. She sobered quickly, however. “We have to move fast, Teagan. There’s no time to waste. Alistair and the others will need us, Denerim will need us. Can the armies be ready to move out first thing in the morning?”

Teagan looked at her with determination. “Absolutely.”

“Good. Let’s get to it, then.” She and her team and Teagan spent the rest of the night readying the armies to move at first light. Judith was glad of the activity, as it kept her from picturing Denerim in flames and Daniel lost to her in any of a hundred different ways. Or Alistair, dead next to the Archdemon. Who needed the Fade, when their waking mind was filled with images like that?


	52. Proposition

Kylon bent over a map spread across Arl Eamon’s desk. He’d felt some reluctance to sweep all the Arl’s papers off onto the chair, but not enough not to do it. Now he leaned over the desk, poring over details of the fortifications, occasionally making a note about troop locations. There’d been no sign of the horde yet, but he was sure they were coming. 

Gradually, he became aware of another presence in the room. Looking up, he saw Morrigan, wandering from bookshelf to bookshelf, looking up at the books and idly running her fingers over the embossed spines. She didn’t look at him, and didn’t speak. Kylon watched her for a few moments, his unease growing.

At last, he cleared his throat. “Something on your mind, Morrigan?”

She still didn’t look at him. “They are coming, you know.”

“Yes, I know,” he snapped impatiently. “Look what I’m do—oh. You’ve seen them.”

“I have.” She cast him a sidelong glance, then turned her attention back to the books. “At a guess, they will be here at dawn, the day after tomorrow.”

“That’s a very specific guess.”

The corner of her mouth quirked up.

“Have you seen Judith and her armies?”

There was a pause. “No.” Kylon’s shoulders slumped. She wouldn’t be here in time, then. “I have seen the Dalish,” Morrigan went on. “Perhaps they are a vanguard of Ferelden’s forces? It matters not.”

“’Matters not’? How can you say that?”

Now Morrigan did look at him, a sharp glance. “Because there is no hope of attacking the Archdemon as soon as they arrive.” When he didn’t say anything, she spoke again, angrily. “The Archdemon’s purpose is to survive, Captain. Surely you do not think you will defeat him on the first day?”

Kylon colored. “You’re right. I wasn’t thinking. So there may be time for Judith to arrive before we have to face the Archdemon.” He wasn’t sure if he was happy about that or not. 

Was it possible Morrigan’s golden eyes softened? He couldn’t tell. “I know what you are thinking.”

“Really.”

“You do not want her to die. To be frank, I do not wish it, either.”

“How do you know she’s going to die?”

Morrigan smiled. “I have always known about the Grey Wardens and the Archdemon. It is why my mother sent me.” She sauntered toward him, her skirt swaying, until she was very, very close. Standing on her tiptoes, she whispered in his ear, “I have a way to stop it.” Then she stepped back, watching his face.

He struggled with the temptation. Whatever her plan, he imagined Judith would distrust it, at best. But it wouldn’t hurt to just hear her out, would it? “How?”

Her smile widening, Morrigan said, “It is quite simple, really. Convince Alistair to lay with me. Here. Tonight. A child will be conceived from the act, and when the Archdemon is killed, it will be drawn to the child.” 

“What?!”

“You do know what happens to a Grey Warden when he—or she—kills the Archdemon, do you not?” At Kylon’s nod, Morrigan went on. “The tainted soul of the Archdemon seeks the nearest tainted body. The Grey Warden’s soul destroys the taint in the Archdemon’s, and both souls are freed from their earthly vessels. In a word, they both die. If, however, I carry a child with the taint within my body, the Archdemon’s soul will be drawn instead to the child. The babe will be young enough to withstand the taint and yet survive … with the Archdemon’s soul, now restored to its former glory as an Old God, inside it.” 

“What does the child become?” Kylon’s head was spinning. He knew Morrigan was a witch, but this was … nearly unbelievable.

She gave him a sidelong glance. “It is … hard to explain.”

“So you expect me just to take you and your good intentions on faith?”

“Given that what I offer is the only way to save your beloved Judith, I do not understand why you would hesitate.”

“Save her, yes, but at what cost?”

“If it is the child which concerns you, you may rest at ease. I will take the child and go. None of you will see me—or the child—again.”

Kylon ran a hand through his red hair, his brain racing. Almost certainly, Judith would want this request refused. Or would she? What would Alistair say? “Why are you asking me this? Why not ask Alistair yourself?”

Morrigan gave a little snort of laughter. “I could not convince Alistair that Oghren is a dwarf.”

“No, I suppose you couldn’t. What about Riordan? Surely he’d be more willing.”

“Perhaps, but even if we could afford to wait for him, which we cannot, he has been tainted too long. He can no longer create life. So … will you do it? Convince Alistair to lay with me to save his life, and more importantly, hers?” Morrigan regarded him with an amused light in her golden eyes.

Kylon growled at her. “You know damn well I will,” he said, although until the words were out of his mouth he hadn’t realized quite how inevitable his acceptance was. But how would he convince Alistair to create a bastard child with this woman he disliked so?

Morrigan’s mouth curved up in a triumphant smile. “I do not envy you the task, Captain, but I suggest you do it quickly. The night grows late.”


	53. Pleading

Kylon stood in front of Alistair’s door for a long time; raising his hand to knock, and then putting it down again; turning to leave and then turning back. He felt incredibly guilty—of course he did—asking Alistair to sleep with a woman he found distasteful in order to create the bastard child he swore he would never have. But much as this was Alistair’s worst nightmare, Kylon had no choice but to ask. And as Morrigan had pointed out, the night was growing late, and there was no time to shilly-shally about.

Taking a deep breath, Kylon raised his hand and knocked sharply. “Alistair!”

From inside the room were grumbles and thuds, and at last Alistair opened the door. His usually perfectly coiffed hair was mussed, he wore only a loose pair of pants, and he blinked sleepily at Kylon. “Daniel? What’s going on?” He looked alarmed. “Are the darkspawn here? The Archdemon?”

“No, not yet.” Kylon shook his head, pushing past Alistair and into the room. “Can we speak privately?”

“Really? Right now?,” Alistair complained. “It couldn’t have waited until morning?”

Kylon took a deep breath. “No.” He stared out the window, into the blackness of the night, not knowing how to start. “The horde should be here by dawn the morning after tomorrow.”

“That’s awfully specific.”

“Morrigan saw them.”

Alistair snorted in disgust. “Morrigan,” he said. “As though we can trust anything she says.”

Kylon barely bit back a groan, rubbing his hand over his face. He saw now why Morrigan needed him to do this. “I don’t see why she would lie.”

“Who can say why Morrigan does anything?” Alistair leaned back against the edge of the dresser.

“She also said the Dalish aren’t far behind. I wonder how that could be.”

Alistair looked up, his eyes clearing of some of the sleepiness. “That is interesting, if it’s true. Do you think they just move faster than everyone else?”

“Or maybe they were able to see the signs ahead of the others? They’re Dalish, after all, they’re used to looking at the world a bit more closely.”

“Possible.” Alistair folded his arms thoughtfully.

Kylon took a deep breath, still not knowing how to start.

“All right, Daniel,” Alistair said, standing up. “Whatever it is that can’t wait, either out with it, or get out so I can sleep.”

“Well, Alistair … I … uh …”

“Maker, Daniel, whatever it is can’t be that bad! Unless you want to sleep with me, and then I’d have to say I’m flattered, but Judith would kill me and Anora would kill me harder.” He grinned. “I promised I wouldn’t sleep with anyone else, you see.”

Kylon did groan at that, burying his face in his hands. Alistair was not making this easy for him. “Fine,” he snapped at last. “If you sleep with Morrigan tonight she’ll conceive a child who will bear the taint and then when the Archdemon is killed its essence will seek out the child and the child will become an Old God and Morrigan will take it away and you’ll never see it again and …” He stopped for breath, grasping Alistair by the upper arms and giving him a little shake. Kylon’s voice nearly broke as he added the last part, “No one will have to die. Not you, not … Judith.” He stepped back, trying to catch his breath, watching for Alistair’s reaction.

He didn’t expect the other man to throw his head back and laugh. “Good one, Daniel,” he said cheerfully. “You almost got me.” But when Kylon’s expression didn’t change, the humor faded from Alistair’s. “Maker’s blood, you’re not joking.” He blinked a couple of times. “Hang on a second.” Alistair walked across the room, picking up a silver pitcher of water. He lifted it, and then dumped it over his head, yelping and shivering as the water sluiced down over his head and shoulders. “All right, that’s better,” he said after a moment. “I almost thought you said I had to sleep with Morrigan, create a child with her, and then the child would be an Old God.”

“That’s what I’m saying, Alistair. That’s what Morrigan’s saying. I …” He swallowed hard, looking away. “I need you to do this.”

“You need me to do this? Why don’t you bloody do it?!”

“You think I wouldn’t? To save Judith? In a heartbeat! No questions asked! But … I’m not a Grey Warden. You’re the only one who can!”

“What about Riordan? Couldn’t we wait for him?”

“Morrigan says he’s been tainted too long, he wouldn’t be able to create a child.”

“And we’re just going along with this idea, that trusting Morrigan with some kind of Old God bastard child is a good idea? Next thing I know, he’ll be leading a revolt and trying to take the throne.”

“But you’ll be forewarned,” Kylon offered.

“Forewarned against Morrigan? Ha!” Alistair said bitterly. “I can’t do this. It … goes against everything I’ve ever stood for, everything I’ve ever believed in.”

“I know it does,” Kylon said miserably. “But I’m asking you to do it anyway.”

“You presume a great deal.” Suddenly Alistair sounded very much like a king.

“Yes. But not for myself! For her, Alistair. I can’t imagine my life, if she dies, and I didn’t try everything I could to save her. I don’t think I could live with that.” He turned his head, biting his lip to keep the tears from falling.

“Fine words,” Alistair said, his eyes resting sympathetically on the wall before him, letting Daniel pull himself together. “But what would Judith say to this? Would she really trust an apostate from the Wilds with some kind of demon baby?”

“She’s brought Morrigan with you this far. If Judith didn’t trust her, she’d have sent her away long ago.”

“Judith trusts a lot of people. Assassins, murdering qunari, disgusting drunken dwarves …”

“And with reason, in all those cases!”

“I suppose.” Alistair sighed heavily. “Break my vow to myself and father a bastard. Break my vow to Anora and sleep with another woman. Sleep with Morrigan, no less, and trust her with an Old God in the shape of a child. I have to be honest with you, Daniel, and say I just don’t know if I can.”

“Couldn’t you try? I’m sorry, Alistair, I know—I really do—what I’m asking you to do, but I’m begging you. Please.”

“What if I take the final blow? Or Riordan? Then Judith still lives.”

Kylon shook his head. “We can’t let you do it, you know that. You’re the King of Ferelden, and the country needs you. And Riordan … I don’t want to gamble Judith’s life on the chance that he’ll be able to strike the fatal blow. Do you?”

Reluctantly, Alistair shook his head.

“This may well be the only way,” Kylon said. 

Alistair closed his eyes, standing in silence for a long moment. At last he nodded, a single, slow time. 

Kylon felt an incredible rush of relief. “Thank you, Alistair.”

“It’s not for you, you know that.” The words were steely and cold, no trace of their earlier camaraderie.

“I know.”

“I … don’t know how long it will take to forget this.”

Red rage rushed through Kylon. “You arrogant ass,” he snapped. “Do you think I like knowing I can’t save her? Knowing I have to come here and beg you to do it for me? For the Maker’s sake, Alistair, if there were any other way, I wouldn’t be here!”

“Who put you in charge anyway?” Alistair yelled.

“She did. YOU did! I’m in charge of defending your capitol city, Your Majesty, and you agreed to be guided by my recommendations.”

There was a moment’s pause while Alistair toweled some of the excess water out of his hair and off his face. He looked at Kylon over the towel. “I did agree to that, didn’t I?” Kylon nodded. “I’m sorry. I hate this.”

“I don’t blame you. I would hate it, too. I do hate it.” Kylon brightened. “There’s nothing to stop you from sending Zevran after her once the Blight is over, is there?”

“To kill my bastard child?” Alistair glared at Kylon in outrage.

“To investigate Morrigan and the child. So you know what to expect.”

Alistair considered that for a moment. “Daniel, you may have a point.” He retrieved a shirt from the dresser, pulling it over his head as he walked to the door. “Let’s get this over with.”

Morrigan met them at the door of her room, her eyes glowing in triumph when she saw Alistair coming down the hall like a lamb to the slaughter. “Do not despair, my king. You will not hate this quite as much as you believe.”

“And that’s supposed to be comforting?” Alistair said faintly.

Looking at Kylon, Morrigan said, “Thank you, Daniel. You have performed a great service.” 

“Has he? If some demon spawn child shows up in 20 years looking for my throne, Daniel’s the first one I’m executing.” Alistair flashed a look over his shoulder that wasn’t joking, then followed Morrigan into the room.

Kylon looked at the closed door, hoping he had made the right decision, and that neither he nor Alistair would come to regret the events of this night.


	54. Truce

When dawn signaled that the endless night was over, Alistair was still walking the nearly deserted streets of Denerim. He had fled Morrigan’s bedroom as soon as she told him the ritual had been completed, donning his armor and a nondescript cloak to conceal his identity from those citizens who hadn’t left in the face of the imminent darkspawn attack. The rest of the night had been spent walking. 

At first, Alistair concentrated on his steps, counting each echoing footfall. But slowly the thoughts began to crowd in on him, memories playing out in his mind. He searched for someone to blame for this misery—his brother dead, Alistair forced to take the throne and his brother’s widow to wife, the Grey Warden population of Ferelden so small that the only way to avoid watching his best friend die was to sleep with an apostate and create some strange kind of Old God child. With his thoughts tending in this direction, he wasn’t surprised to look up and see that his feet had brought him to Fort Drakon.

Without any very clear idea of what he was going to do, Alistair climbed the steps and went inside the building. He found a guard, asking the man to show him to Loghain’s cell. Their footsteps rang on the stone floors of the corridors, echoing in his head, as he tried to decide exactly what he’d come here to say.

He was still mulling it over when the guard stopped in front of a cell and the tall, still imposing figure of Loghain Mac Tir turned to glare at him. Then, surprisingly, Loghain chuckled. 

“Well, if it isn’t my new son-in-law. How was the wedding? I heard it was arranged a bit hastily—did Anora get all her pomp and circumstance?”

“I believe she felt the choir was missing a few altos,” Alistair said evenly. 

Loghain threw his head back and laughed. “Very good. Don’t let me bait you into an argument with the opening salvo.”

“I didn’t come here to argue.”

“What did you come for? Ready for that duel you weren’t man enough to have at the Landsmeet? Very wise,” Loghain said. “Stick the old man in prison for a while, let his muscles start to atrophy.”

“I’m not here for a duel, either,” Alistair said. He rubbed at his face. “I …”

“Out with it, boy! At least Cailan was never at a loss for words!”

“I’M NOT CAILAN!” He hadn’t been aware of being so angry about this, but it was there in his voice, that and the grief he still felt for the loss of his brother and any chance there might ever have been to know him. Alistair gripped the bars of Loghain’s cell, closing his eyes and biting his lip to try and control the sudden surge of emotion that threatened to disrupt all his control. 

With his eyes closed, he missed the almost sympathetic softening of Loghain’s eyes. “No. That you’re not,” Loghain said. “It’s time you learned that.”

“Is this going to be another rant about my unfitness for the throne?” Alistair chuckled wearily. “Because you’re a bit late with that argument. I’ve made it time and again, and it didn’t seem to change anything.”

To his surprise, Loghain turned away, looking out the window with a sigh. “Only history can judge a man’s fitness,” he said. “When I first met Maric, he was no more prepared to be King than you are. Less so, possibly. While Cailan had all sorts of preparation. And look at the two of them. If it hadn’t been darkspawn, Cailan would have found some other way to go out in a blaze of martyred glory.”

“So you helped him along, then?” The words were spoken with little heat.

“If you like to put it that way. To break the hold of the Grey Wardens on this nation.”

Alistair laughed at that, a high-pitched laugh that took him a long time to get under control. “And nearly doomed Ferelden to be swallowed up by Blight in the process,” he said. 

“How’s that?” Loghain looked at the boy with interest.

“If the Archdemon isn’t killed by a Grey Warden, the Blight continues. The Archdemon’s soul just jumps to another darkspawn.”

“And how does the Grey Warden prevent that?”

“By being already tainted. So the Grey Warden’s taint calls to the Archdemon’s.” He nearly finished the tale, but remembered the darkened bedroom he had come from, the sibilant hisses of Morrigan in the midst of her pleasure, and he closed his throat against the bile that rose up in it. 

“I see. So you Orlesian toadies have your uses, then.”

“We’re not Orlesian. We are of all nations, and none,” Alistair said quietly. “We fight the darkspawn. Nothing more, and nothing less.”

“Indeed.” Loghain turned away, his head bowed. “It seems that my lack of information was unfortunate. A pity more Grey Wardens are not as forthcoming as you are.” He cleared his throat. “Now, while all this is most interesting, and this family reunion quite touching, why are you here?”

“Have you noticed how quiet it’s gotten?”

Loghain merely glared at him.

“Of course. You’re the Hero of River Dane, Loghain the All-Seeing. If you know so much, why is it so quiet?”

“I can only assume that you and your Grey Warden friend are failing and the darkspawn are coming here.”

Alistair sighed. “More or less. Although I’ll point out that if we’d been supported in our task of collecting armies against the Blight, we’d have been able to also watch the darkspawn. As it was, thanks to you we had all we could do to watch our backs.”

“Yes.” The set of Loghain’s mouth slackened, and he sighed. “I have … much to regret.”

“Would you like a chance to redeem yourself?”

It was hard to tell who was more surprised by the question. Loghain collected himself first. “Exactly what are you offering?”

“We need every man we can get,” Alistair said, surprised he could hear himself over the blood rushing in his ears. Was he really offering to set his bitterest enemy, this murderer of Cailan and Duncan and all his brother Grey Wardens, free and put a sword in his hands to boot? It seemed that he was. “Especially those with combat experience.”

“I …” Loghain paused, looking uncharacteristically uncertain. “It has been many years since I fought a darkspawn.”

“It’s just like fighting anything else. Swing sharp thing, watch opponent fall down,” Alistair said, offering a small grin. He was not at all surprised when Loghain didn’t return it. 

“So you put a stick in my hand and send me out to get killed?”

“No, I put a sword in your hand, and send you out to lead those ridiculous whelps you’ve let Denerim limp along with. And I expect you to hold the gates as long as you have to.” There was steel in the younger man’s voice now, and Loghain’s eyes widened slightly at the sound of it. 

“And then what?” he challenged.

“If you live—and if I do—there will be time enough for that. For now … vengeance is less important than accomplishing the goal Cailan and the rest of the Grey Wardens died for.” He thought inexplicably of Leliana, and how proud she would be of him at this moment. He called for the guard, and the cell was unlocked and Loghain Mac Tir stepped out of it, a free man again.

“You show good sense,” Loghain said grudgingly. “Now, I’ll need to see a map of the fortifications, and I’ll want to go over the plans with you—“

“No.” 

Loghain looked at the younger man in surprise. “You’re going to need my help, lad. My experience and advice was invaluable to …” He let his voice trail off as Alistair snorted.

“Invaluable? An interesting choice of words. I might have said ‘deadly’. At any rate, maybe Cailan did need you to tell him what to do. But I have more combat experience than Cailan ever dreamed of, and I have what he didn’t—a skilled team of fighters who I can trust.”

“The mage?” Loghain scoffed. “Or do you mean her lover, the sergeant? Your little Orlesian bard? Or my Antivan assassin, perhaps? Skilled, indeed.” He allowed the sarcasm to hang in the air. That tone, and the attitude that went with it, had caused many men wiser and more experienced than the whelp at his side to falter in their confidence, giving Loghain the chance to step forward and do things his way.

“Yes,” Alistair said. “The killer, the thief, the mage, and her lover. Among others.”

“And where, exactly, does my daughter fit into this?” 

“The Queen has left the city, taking refuge to the north. In case … if the city should fall, and the rest of us with it, Anora will be there to care for what remains of Ferelden.”

“Was this her idea?” Loghain looked sideways at the younger man.

“No.” Alistair shrugged. “She might have asked, if she’d thought I’d agree. I came to this decision on my own. Your … experience and advice are no good to us in a jail cell.”

“I thought you said you didn’t need those.”

“I said I don’t need you to tell me what to do. You needn’t think you’re in charge. That doesn’t mean I expect you to sit back with your arms folded. When it’s called for, I will value your opinion.”

“But you’ll decide when it’s called for.”

“Exactly so.” The two men’s eyes met briefly, Alistair’s perhaps a bit more steely than was necessary. He was desperately trying not to show how conflicted he was about carrying on this conversation with a man he had hated for so long. Standing to his full height—an inch or two taller than the Hero of River Dane—he said, “Now, there is much to do. No time to stand about.”

“Yes, ser,” Loghain said, considering Alistair thoughtfully as he followed the young king through the empty streets.


	55. Anticipation

As Morrigan had predicted, the first darkspawn came into sight around dawn the next morning. Standing on the battlements above the great gates, Kylon bit his lip nervously.

“You, too, eh?” Alistair glanced in his direction. “We’re ready. I’m sure we’re ready.” His nervous tone belied the confident words.

Kylon looked up and down the line of archers. They were prepared to hold off the first rush of darkspawn as long as they could, even knowing they’d be prime targets for the emissaries among the horde. Zev was around somewhere, having chosen, with Kylon’s blessing, to take a few other stealth fighters—including the Crows Ignacio and Cesar—and hold back until their style could enable them to slip past the bulk of the horde and attack the emissaries. Surveying the troops on the battlements, Kylon was both surprised and proud to see that all the men—the lazy recruits, the volunteers they had collected from the refugees, the King’s own guardsmen, even troops formerly loyal only to Loghain—were standing stalwart and outwardly unafraid. Wait till they see the horde, he thought fatalistically. They’ll break soon enough then. 

Below, behind the barred gates, Loghain waited with another set of troops. Kylon had small groups of reserves scattered through the city, as well. No use wearing everyone out in the first onslaught and then have only worn out and wounded troops to deal with the next. He’d made that point during a meeting yesterday to finalize plans, and Loghain had turned to stare at him, the aggressive anger in the former Teyrn’s eyes fading somewhat. 

“Glad to know someone around here has something going on between his ears,” Loghain had muttered, his tense shoulders relaxing somewhat. He refused to consider anything Alistair said seriously, viewing the King as an inexperienced youth, but he seemed willing to take orders from Kylon and, oddly, worked well with Sten. The two taciturn warriors seemed to understand each other. Sten was deep in Denerim in command of the reserves. Wynne was stationed at the back of the troops on the ground, where she could get to safety with relative ease. She was their only healer for the moment, although there were two young mages who had emerged, shaking with fear, from the Alienage, Shianni bullying them each step of the way. 

“No time to hide yourselves away afraid of the Circle,” she’d shouted. “Get out there and save the blasted country, then let’s see them try and drag you off to the Maker-forsaken Tower!”

Wynne had taken them both gently under her wing, giving them some tests to determine what they could do, and they stood with her, a tentative bravery stamped on their faces.

“We’re as ready as we’re going to be,” Kylon replied to Alistair now. “I wish …” He saw Judith’s face in his mind, and wondered if he’d ever see her again. He hoped she’d at least make it back in time to save the city.

He looked down, seeing the advance of the horde running pell-mell down the road, gibbering an awful cry. They were … horrific. It took all of Kylon’s training to keep from taking a step back.

“Steady!” called Alistair, and Kylon realized he wasn’t the only one profoundly disturbed by the creatures they had to fight. “Fighting them is the same as fighting anything else. Just smells worse.” There were some weak chuckles from the line, but it held, and that was something. Kylon glanced over at the King, surprised to see that Alistair looked drawn, and was sweating. 

“You all right?” Kylon said quietly.

“The taint,” Alistair ground out between clenched teeth. “I can feel them. The whole horde. It’s … not pleasant.” He took a deep breath.

“Do you feel anything—anyone—else?” Kylon wondered if Alistair could tell if another Grey Warden was present.

Alistair closed his eyes, listening to whatever inner warning system alerted him to the presence of tainted blood. At last he shook his head. “No. Could be that the sensation is overwhelmed by all these other darkspawn.”

The advance was closer now, and Kylon held up a hand. “Take positions!” he called. Three of every four men dropped to their knees, where they couldn’t be seen from the ground. “Hold your fire!” he shouted at those who remained standing, bows at the ready. “Wait until they’re in range. Make every shot count!” His voice was louder than necessary, and he could see some of the darkspawn stop, looking up toward the sound. He grasped Alistair’s shoulder, shoving the King to his knees. “Get down,” he hissed impatiently. “You think I’ve gone through all this just to have you get shot by some genlock in the first five minutes?”

“You’ve gone through all this?” Alistair protested, but he submitted to the pressure and dropped.

The darkspawn below had taken aim. Kylon shouted to his men, “Steady … steady … FIRE!” Arrows shot down toward the darkspawn, but not too many. The darkspawn shot back, but without urgency. They were clearly not impressed by the force at the gates. Kylon could barely restrain his smile as he saw one of the hurlocks running back down the road. Let them think the city’s defenses were weak. 

The darkspawn on the road and the standing archers on the battlements exchanged a few more volleys of arrows. The kneeling archers fidgeted, fingering their arrows anxiously, but Kylon’s confident stance heartened them, and they waited as they had been instructed to do.

“Not long now,” Kylon said, watching the road carefully. A larger group of darkspawn was coming, and with them, two large ogres. Believing the city to be weakly defended, they were going straight for the gates. “Wait for my command,” he said in a low voice that nonetheless carried across the battlements. He carefully gauged the distance. When the ogres came within range, Kylon lifted his hand again. “Up, men!” he called. “Aim for the ogres!”

As one man, they surged to their feet, readying their bows, and the first volley rained arrows down on the unprepared group of darkspawn. One ogre took three exceptionally well-aimed arrows in the eye. Screaming with rage, he clawed at them, blood streaming down his face. Another arrow flew out, hitting the ogre in the corner of the other eye. Kylon looked down the row, seeing an older elf cursing. 

“I was aiming for the pupil, Sergeant. Ah, when I was young, I wouldn’t have missed,” the older man said with great pride. He raised his bow and loosed another arrow, then staggered and shouted in pain when a darkspawn arrow pierced his shoulder.


	56. Command

Standing on the battlements, Kylon looked over the battleground. The first of the two ogres was down, the second pierced by multiple arrows, many of them in the back. In the back? Unless the darkspawn were trying to take out their own ogre … He squinted in the sunlight, staring into the trees. There! Movement rustled, and not just the wind in the leaves. He elbowed Alistair, who was shouting encouragement at the archers.

“The Dalish!” Kylon cried, raising his voice to be heard above the din of battle. 

“Praise the Maker!” Alistair said fervently. “I hope they don’t all get themselves killed down there before they can get in here and help us! How far back you think the rest of the army is?”

“Probably days,” Kylon said. “Remember, Morrigan told us the Dalish were ahead of the others.”

Alistair’s lip curled at the mention of Morrigan’s name. Neither Alistair nor Kylon could look at Morrigan, and she was now … somewhere in the city. Kylon had told her to take her orders from Sten, which presumably she was doing. Turning back, he saw that the second ogre was swaying now, and as Kylon watched, it fell with a resounding crash. The darkspawn milling about in front of the gates withdrew, and there was a shaky cheer from the battlements.

“No time for that yet,” Kylon muttered. “First group, off you go!” he shouted. Half the archers, including the wounded, streamed off the battlements, to get healed and regroup until needed again. The other half busied themselves looking to their weapons, waiting. Kylon hoped the Dalish would have the good sense to stay in their trees and not attempt to get into the city yet.

As the darkspawn on the ground waited for the next group to arrive, Kylon paced the battlements, checking on his archers. He found the fighter from Lothering, Raleigh, lying near the left-hand stairs. Blood frothed at the young farmer’s lips and an arrow stuck up out of his chest.

“Lad,” Kylon said gently, kneeling down next to the boy, “let’s get you down the steps to the healer.”

Raleigh grinned, then coughed, spraying blood all over himself. “N-not for me, ser,” he said hoarsely. “Got me in the lungs. No … help for it. It’s just …” He broke off and a spasm of pain crossed his face. He gripped Kylon’s hand, looking up imploringly. “I can’t remember the Chant, ser. ‘And so … is the Golden City … blackened …’ What’s the rest?” Raleigh’s voice was almost childlike as he stared over Kylon’s shoulder. “I-I can’t … remember.” He coughed again, a wet, congested sound.

Kylon opened his mouth to finish off the verse, but before he could, he heard Alistair’s familiar voice over his shoulder. The King knelt next to the dying archer. “’And so is the Golden City blackened/Until you step into my halls./Marvel at perfection, for it is eternal./You have brought joy into Heaven’ …” His voice trailed off as Raleigh’s eyes closed, a peaceful smile spreading over the young farmer’s face.

As he gently lay Raleigh’s head back on the ground, Kylon said quietly, “Those weren’t the right words at all.”

“Do you think he needed to hear all that doom and gloom about how we’ve ruined the Golden City? Let the poor man go off with a happy thought,” Alistair said.

“You didn’t just make those up on the spot.”

“What do you think I did all those nights waiting to be forced into the Templars for the rest of my life? I rewrote the Chant as if the Maker really cared,” Alistair said bitterly. “I thought someone ought to. Care, that is.” A muscle worked in his throat as he stared off in the direction of Redcliffe. “Duncan was the first person I ever knew who believed in me, who cared what happened to me. Judith was the second.” He looked back at Kylon. “I swear to you, King or not, I’m not losing her to this Blight, if it costs my own life instead. Come on, I think I feel more darkspawn coming.” He strode off, and Kylon followed him. 

They didn’t have long to wait. Another group of darkspawn was coming down the road, with an especially large ogre accompanying them. “Loghain!” Kylon shouted. He made eye contact with the former teyrn, and Loghain nodded gravely. Kylon raised a hand, watching as the ogre prepared for its charge and the rest of the darkspawn got out of its way. As the ogre began to barrel toward the gates, Kylon’s hand dropped and Loghain gave the signal to his men. The gates opened, and the ogre, expecting to smash into the firm gates, stumbled instead, falling to its knees inside the walls. Then the gates closed again behind it, almost instantly. The ogre was set upon by the troops inside the gates, who made short work of it, and the remaining archers and the Dalish took care of the darkspawn outside.

The Dalish held their positions in the trees for some time, taking shots here and there. Kylon and Alistair grew increasingly nervous for the elves every time a darkspawn moved in their direction. 

As the archers let loose a volley of fire arrows on a group of darkspawn before the gates, Kylon saw Alistair stiffen, throwing his head back as if he was sniffing the air. 

“What is it?” 

“Grey Warden,” Alistair said, his eyes scanning every inch of ground. Then he groaned. “If I can feel it, so can they.” He looked down at the darkspawn. “Whoever it is will have to be very careful.”

“Great,” Kylon muttered, feeling hope and fear struggle for dominance inside him. Then training overtook both emotions. This was battle, and he was the commander—the Grey Warden on the ground was a pawn he couldn’t control, and would have to make it onto the chessboard on his or her own. “Archers, steady!” he called. He studied the darkspawn on the ground, who were milling about as though they were waiting for something. “Fire!” Kylon called, and another volley of arrows shot into the darkspawn. The mass of dead creatures was growing—the arrows weren’t going to waste—but the size of the group below didn’t seem to diminish.

Now he saw coming down the road what he had expected—a very well protected pair of emissaries. Kylon grabbed Alistair’s arm. “Off the battlements, NOW! Take some of the men with you.” Alistair nodded, and started off. 

Kylon motioned toward the emissaries, and the archers nearest him nodded, taking careful aim. As the emissaries closed in, the arrows sped toward them. Several of the group flanking the emissaries fell, but the magic users themselves were safe.

There was time for only that volley before a fireball flew through the air, exploding near the stairs on the right. Men shrieked, some falling off the battlements into the courtyard. Alistair, who had hung back, letting some of the archers off the battlements first, was blasted backward, skidding across the stone on his plated back. Kylon rushed to the fallen King.

“Alistair! Say something!”

“Your timing … leaves something to be desired,” Alistair said, coughing slightly. He sat up, moving his arms and legs. “I seem to be in one piece.”

“Thank the Maker,” Kylon said, shivering in the sudden cold. The stone was slick with ice now, and he looked around him. “What the--?!”

“Blizzard spell,” Alistair said briefly. He grasped Kylon’s shoulder. “We’ve done as much as we can up here. We need to get off this battlement before we’re all killed.”

Kylon nodded, helping Alistair up. The winds were swirling around them, and their metal boots slipped and slid on the ice as they inched their way toward the other set of stairs, collecting all the archers they could find on the way. The blizzard eased as they reached the stairs and hastily they made their way into the courtyard.

“Well, that didn’t take long,” Loghain sneered as they reached his side. Alistair drew in his breath to argue, but Kylon shook his head. There was really no point allowing themselves to be baited in the middle of battle. 

“They’ll be breaching the gates any minute,” Kylon said urgently. “Unless the Dalish can do something.”

“They’re here, then?” Loghain asked. 

“Hiding in the trees. Let’s hope they don’t get themselves slaughtered—they’re all the reinforcements we’re likely to see for a while,” Alistair said grimly.

Loghain snorted. “You children are lucky to have reinforcements at all.”

Alistair groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “Yes, and you went into battle knee deep in snow, uphill both ways. Can we not, please?”

“As you say, Your Majesty,” Loghain said.

“If you two are quite done,” Kylon snapped, “we need to be prepared. With the battlements cleared, they’ll be through the gates before we know it. Loghain, are you ready?”

The former teyrn nodded.

Kylon called the surviving archers around him. “You have your orders. Split into groups of four, find yourselves high positions. Rooftops, second stories, you name it. Make every arrow count, don’t stay in one place too long, try not to give them a clear shot at you. For Ferelden!”

“For Ferelden!” the archers echoed, and they were off. 

Shortly afterward, the defenders at the gates heard the heavy thuds they’d been dreading.

Staring at the gates, Alistair said plaintively, “Alistair, the king who lost Ferelden. Maybe someone could write a song.”


	57. Appearing

The thuds were coming repeatedly, the heavy gates that had guarded Denerim for generations groaning under the assault, but holding for the moment. 

As Kylon and Alistair stood conferring with Loghain on the defense of the gates, Kylon caught sight of an elf with a heavily tattooed face sprinting down the street. She stopped when she reached them. “Warden … Alistair,” she panted.

Alistair looked startled for a moment, then recognition dawned. “Mithra, is that right?”

The elf nodded. “The Dalish … are here. Keeper Lanaya sent me … on ahead. These streets are confusing!” She was catching her breath somewhat by the time she finished the end of the sentence.

“You have no idea how glad we are to see you!” Alistair said. “Why are you so far ahead of the rest of the army?”

Mithra flushed. “We saw the signs of the darkspawn, that they were moving this direction, but the others wouldn’t listen to us. After all, what do we know?” she said with a flash of anger. “Reading signs and tracking things is only our way of life, why listen to us about it? So the Keeper said we would go where the Archdemon was going and apologize later if it was the wrong thing to do.”

“It’s not exactly military protocol,” Alistair said, “but I’m not about to quibble with it. Let me introduce you to the commander of our armies in Denerim, General Kylon.” Kylon’s eyes widened, and his head snapped around. Alistair grinned. “Consider it a battlefield promotion. Besides, you have to outrank Loghain.”

Kylon shook his head, turning his attention back to Mithra and trying to ignore the increasing volume of creaks and splintering sounds from the gates. “Where are the rest of your people?”

“They’re coming this way. We went around the city, came through the wharves.”

“You think the darkspawn’ll do that, too?” Alistair asked, his eyes dark with worry.

“No, they seem pretty committed to coming in the front way. Besides, they’re as much interested in attacking us as they are in taking the city,” Kylon said, hoping he was right. “Mithra, are you rested enough to run back?” When she nodded, he said, “Go back to your people, tell them we’re fighting a delaying action. Stay in hiding as best you can, make every skirmish and shot count … Kill as many darkspawn as you can, but mostly just stay alive until the armies arrive. We want to conserve our manpower.”

“Yes, ser!” And she was off, sprinting back down the street, both of the men watching her legs flashing under the short leather skirt.

“Judith looks better in those,” Kylon muttered, while Alistair said wistfully, “You think Anora would wear that if I got her a set?”

There was a loud crack, and a hole appeared in one of the gates. They could hear the darkspawn laughing outside, and Kylon moved up toward Loghain. “It won’t be long now.”

“No,” Loghain said briefly, moving forward. He positioned his men well back from the gates, and they held, waiting. Loghain looked at Alistair. “Not that I mean to tell you what to do, Your Majesty, but I’d hate to have to go looking for another bastard son of Maric’s to take the throne. Perhaps you’d like to fall back?”

Alistair scowled, but Kylon grabbed him by the arm. “Loghain makes a good point. When they breach the gates, we don’t want you here in the line of fire.”

“But I’ve fought—oh, all right,” Alistair said reluctantly when they both glared at him. He looked at Loghain. “Er … may the Maker watch over you.”

“No, it didn’t at all sound like that meant ‘may the first darkspawn who sees you find you quite tasty’,” Loghain observed. He turned back to his men dismissively.

Kylon escorted Alistair through the town, checking on the emplacements of the archers. As they reached the docks, Alistair gripped Kylon’s arm, pulling him to a stop. “Grey Warden,” he said, looking around carefully. 

A dripping head appeared, peeking over the top of the planking at the end of the dock. Riordan climbed the rest of the way up, tossing his wet hair back in a move that was totally unappreciated by Kylon and Alistair. He smiled as he approached them.

“I gather we have not yet lost the city.”

“The gates are under siege, but they’re holding, for the moment. Have you— Do you know how far back the armies are?” Kylon asked anxiously.

“You mean, have I seen your beautiful amour?” Riordan nodded. “She was at Redcliffe. We agreed that I would come ahead of the armies, to spare you, Your Majesty, from having to take the final blow.” 

Alistair’s jaw tensed. “I would be happy to, if the rest of you would let me,” he muttered.

“NO,” Kylon snapped. “Riordan, what are your thoughts on getting to the Archdemon?”

“We want to draw him to the highest point in the city,” Riordan said. 

“That would be Fort Drakon,” Alistair said.

“Alistair, we should take a small team and go there—he will be drawn to the taint in our blood. We can use that to our advantage.”

“Did I hear there is an Archdemon to be fought?” All three men’s heads whipped around at the sound of the Antivan-accented voice from behind them. Zev lounged against a wall, smirking. “That was a remarkably nice move with the hair,” he murmured to Riordan. “Perhaps, if there is another night for us, you could demonstrate it again, more … privately?”

Riordan flushed, but one eyebrow quirked slightly in a way Zev apparently took as assent. 

“For you, magnificent specimen that you are, I would hold the gates myself,” Zev purred. “What is our plan?” he asked, turning to Kylon. It was amazing to see how fast the creature of seduction gave way to the trained assassin, Kylon thought.

“I thought you were going after emissaries?”

“Oh, we managed to take care of a couple,” Zev said, shrugging. “We are ridiculously awesome, after all. But Ignacio and Cesar prefer to work alone. They say to tell the lovely Judith that she is now in their debt … if they survive, that is. So here I am, at His Majesty’s service.”

“As am I,” came a cold voice. Morrigan sashayed forward from the doorway where she’d been lurking. “Where the Archdemon is, I should be as well.” 

Alistair blushed, looking away uncomfortably. 

“Anyone else hanging about who’d like to be included?” Kylon shouted, looking around him. It was exasperating, the way people kept appearing from nowhere. 

“Um, if you’re looking for a fighter,” said a voice, and the Dalish elf Mithra emerged from hiding as well. At Kylon’s raised eyebrows, she said, “The Keeper told me to make myself useful.” Her cheeks reddened slightly. “She didn’t specify how I was to be useful.”

“All right, then,” Kylon said. “Morrigan, Zev, Mithra, Alistair: Fort Drakon. Should take the darkspawn a while to get to you, maybe long enough for the armies to arrive. Riordan?”

“I will be waiting, and will attempt to intercept the Archdemon as it flies toward the Fort,” Riordan said. His eye caught Zev’s, and he smiled. “If night falls and we yet live, I will find you.”

A faint wash of pink appeared across Zev’s cheeks, much to Kylon’s surprise.

“Mithra, where will I find your Keeper?” She told him, and Kylon bowed at them all, clasping his arm across his chest. “May the Maker be with each of you,” Kylon said. “I’ll be joining you once I see to our defenses within the rest of the city.” 

As the rest of them headed off toward Fort Drakon, Kylon heard a sickening crack that resounded across the city. The gates were breached, he realized, his heart sinking. Would those inside the city be able to hold out until the armies arrived?


	58. Arrival

As they neared Denerim, the lands were darkened, the plants dying, the very air seeming to thicken with black taint. Judith’s armies reacted with despair, anger, and a significant amount of nausea, which did nothing to improve the air. 

As she hurried along toward the city, the anxiety to know what was happening there pumped through Judith’s body in heavy pulses. She wished desperately for Morrigan’s ability to become a bird and fly—why had she never taken lessons in shape-shifting? Why had Morrigan insisted on staying in Denerim? It seemed wrong to Judith, raising all the secret doubts about Morrigan she’d had from the beginning. If only she knew what was happening!

When they caught their first sight of the splintered gates of Denerim, hacked to pieces and strewn over the ground amongst great mounds of darkspawn corpses, there was a collective falter. That the gates might fall had been a possibility, but none of them had believed it could—or would—really happen. 

Coming nearer to the gates, Judith was heartened to find that the corpses were all those of darkspawn, and pride swelled in her. She didn’t need anyone to tell her that if the gates had been held long enough for darkspawn to pile up before them in these numbers, Daniel had done it. She hoped that he’d had the good sense to get away from the gates before they fell.

Judith considered making a speech, but decided now wasn’t the time. “Ferelden!” she shouted.

Cheering, the troops surged ahead as one. Darkspawn emerged from the gates to meet them, and the two forces came together with a ring of metal on metal. 

“Get yer backs into it!” Oghren shouted at them. “We’ll slaughter every last one o’ the nug-lickers!” 

Convinced that Oghren had things well in hand at the gates, Judith fought her way through the mass into the city, Leliana and the mabari at her side. Judith could feel the presence of other Grey Wardens, a sweeter hum over the buzz of the darkspawn. And above that, the sharp tug of the Archdemon, growing stronger as she moved past the gates. As they entered the city, Judith and Leliana looked around in vain for any of the companions they’d left behind. 

Then there was a cheer, and fighters in grimy, battle-stained, scarred armor, began emerging from buildings and alleys. “Took yer sweet time,” one growled as he jogged past, throwing himself into the fray.

“Grey Warden,” rasped a voice, and Judith’s jaw dropped open as she recognized the weather-beaten features and fierce scowl of Loghain Mac Tir. 

“What are you doing here?” she asked without preamble.

A humorless smile briefly tightened his mouth. “The King of Ferelden let me loose to defend the gates.”

“He did WHAT?” Judith and Leliana spoke together. 

Loghain nodded. “We held them off as long as we could. Maric’s bastard and that pet guardsman of yours did a good job,” he said grudgingly. “Someone’s got a good head on their shoulders. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He moved off, gathering up small knots of men, rallying and forming them into units.

“Alistair let him out?” Judith said to Leliana as they hurried through the streets.

Leliana shrugged helplessly. “It seems unbelievable, but …” her cheeks colored, “I’d be so proud of him.”

“Me, too. Let’s find him and tell him so!” And Judith followed the pull of her blood into the depths of the city. 

A shadow fell over the city as they ran, and Judith felt a bone-deep chill as the Archdemon drew nearer. She looked up into the sky, seeing the same blue-black shining scales and giant cruel mouth she’d seen in the Dead Trenches, far below Orzammar. The shadow of the wings was cold and dark as the dragon passed over them. Judith repressed the urge to duck, to hide like a rabbit from a hawk, and wait until it had passed.

On top of the palace tower, she could make out a figure—smaller than Alistair, she noted with relief—pacing restlessly as the Archdemon came closer. When the giant dragon flew by, Riordan ran across the tower, launching himself into the air, landing firmly on the dragon’s back. Leliana clutched fearfully at Judith’s arm. A piercing shriek of pain from the Archdemon caught the ear of every person in the city. Judith couldn’t see what Riordan was doing, but the Archdemon jerked and twisted, bucking violently. Riordan was unseated as the dragon banked sharply, and he slid down the huge blackened wing. And then he was loose in the air, flailing as he fell, while the Archdemon flew away, drops of blackened blood splattering through the air from its injured wing. Judith closed her eyes, not wanting to see the other Grey Warden falling through the sky, dreading the inevitable wet thud as he hit the ground.

It never came. 

“Look!” Leliana said urgently, shaking Judith’s arm. 

Opening her eyes, Judith looked up. Riordan swung below the surface of the tower, smashing into the stones. A cry of pain reached Judith. She watched, her heart in her throat, as Riordan pulled himself hand over hand up some kind of rope, one leg dangling uselessly.

As Riordan neared the platform of the tower, a deeply tanned face looked over the edge. “You look most delicious flying through the air, my bewitching Warden.”

“And you swing a wicked rope,” Riordan answered, taking the hand that was held down to him. Zev pulled him the rest of the way up, Riordan groaning in pain as his leg had to bear some of his weight. “You saved my life,” he said, gripping the assassin’s shoulder. 

“I believe that puts you in my debt,” Zev purred. “Rest assured, I will expect to be repaid.”

Riordan grinned. “Go help the other Grey Wardens finish what I could not while I get my leg healed. Proper repayment requires the use of both of them.”


	59. Loss

Its shrieks echoing through the sky, the Archdemon slowly flew toward the tower at the top of Fort Drakon. Judith and Leliana raced through the streets in pursuit of the dragon, with Sam the mabari at their heels.

“Alistair’s up there,” Judith said. “I can feel him. We have to get there before … he does something foolish.”

Leliana swallowed hard and ran faster. 

An imposingly large hurlock alpha stood in front of the fort’s doors, a blood-stained battleaxe in its blackened hands. Sam barrelled forward, and the alpha brought the battleaxe down, missing the dog by inches as Sam skidded to a halt. Judith unslung Spellweaver from her back, ready to engage the alpha, but then the fort’s doors opened unexpectedly, knocking the alpha forward onto its knees, where the mabari took advantage of the alpha’s disorientation and attacked, ripping its throat out. 

Judith looked up into the violet eyes of the qunari who stood in the doorway. “Good timing, Sten.”

“Indeed,” he said impassively. “A path has been cleared through the fort for you, kadan. Let us get to the roof.”

Blinking in surprise, Judith grinned up at him. “Sten, I could hug you.” He blanched, taking a step back, and both women laughed. “But I won’t,” Judith added, pushing past him inside the building.

Something that would have been relief had Sten allowed himself an expression crossed the qunari’s face as he turned to follow the mage into the building. 

The four of them made their way through the seemingly endless halls and rooms of the fort. Darkspawn corpses littered the floors. Dalish fighters were scattered along the way, as well, having worked under Sten’s command to clear a path through the tainted creatures. As Judith and her team passed, the Dalish followed them. The sounds of battle grew louder in their ears as they approached the final doorway to the roof, and Judith’s heart rose into her throat, choking her.

She reached the great door at last and pushed through into the chaos: the screaming, the clash of blades on armor, the sickening wet slap of a sword entering flesh. 

Behind her, Sten and the Dalish emerged from the doorway.

“You, you, you,” the qunari said brusquely, motioning with his giant arm. He grasped another fighter by the arm, pushing the elf toward an emissary. Judith’s eyes lifted above the fighting, looking for the Archdemon. It crouched on a pile of rubble, spitting brilliant blue jets of corrosive liquid all around it. 

But it was wounded, Judith could see. One wing flapped spasmodically, scattering drops of blood across the roof, where they burnt whatever they touched, and the blood ran freely from a wound in its back. Was it wounded enough to be killed? Judith couldn’t tell for sure.

With the assistance of the Dalish, the Denerim troops on the rooftop were making some headway into the ranks of the darkspawn. But who was in charge? Looking around, she saw Wynne’s hands moving swiftly in familiar healing spells, and behind her, two armored figures. Their hand gestures and rigid stances indicated they were arguing, and on closer look she recognized both sets of armor, battered as they were. Relief rushed through her as she sprinted across the rooftop toward them, the sword in her hand flashing as she made short work of any darkspawn that got in her way.

As she approached, the tug of the blood bond between the Grey Wardens sharpened, and Alistair looked up. His face lit with his smile and he started toward her, only to check himself. 

Judith could hear Daniel’s raised voice now. “What in Thedas are you smiling at?!”

Alistair put his hands on Kylon’s shoulders and turned him to face the approaching mage. Anxiously she looked him over, making sure he was all in one piece, as he was doing the same. And then she was in his arms, despite the blood, both black and red, that covered them both. They clung to one another, drawing comfort and rejuvenation from each other’s presence. And when they stepped apart, it was with a renewed energy and sense of purpose that slowly spread to all their fighters on the rooftop.

Judith looked over at Alistair. “Now, you weren’t trying to go kill that Archdemon yourself, were you?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

“By the Maker,” he shouted, “you all treat me like I’ve never been in battle before.”

“Perhaps Your Majesty forgets what happened the last time Ferelden’s king went into battle,” Kylon snapped. 

“I didn’t forget, General. I haven’t forgotten anything that’s happened,” Alistair growled, staring pointedly at the other man. “Have you?” 

Kylon flushed, looking at the great green spider as she spat poison at a shriek. “There is more than one way to die, Your Majesty. And I will not allow you to fall victim to any of them. Not while there’s blood in my veins.” He looked back at Alistair challengingly.

Judith looked from one man to the other, trying to follow the subtext in their glares.

Alistair looked away first, over his shoulder toward the Archdemon. Darkspawn were pouring out onto the roof from different doorways, feeling the Archdemon’s call. Judith could feel it, too, the almost hypnotic hum. It enraged her—too much like the honeyed words of a demon, trying to tear away her control over herself. 

“We have to clear the path to that sodding thing, anyway,” Alistair said. “No point in arguing—I can’t sit back and watch, and you can’t let me. We need every man.”

“Fine, then,” Kylon snapped. “Just try not to get your foolhardy self killed, will you?”

Troops were trickling out onto the roof from the armies Judith had collected, and with a squeeze of Judith’s hand, Kylon moved off to organize the troops. 

Judith looked at Alistair. “I’m killing that thing, you know that, right?”

He laughed. “Not if I get there first!” And then Sam was at Judith’s heels, and Leliana was behind them, and it was just like every battle they’d waged all over Ferelden, fighting their way side by side through the mass of darkspawn to get close to the dragon. It was wounded, but still fighting. 

Judith leaped back as one of its front legs, curved claws gleaming, swiped at her. Alistair, his eyes on the open mouth and sharp teeth, wasn’t as fast. The wicked claws swept toward him too fast for Judith to even call out to him. Then a figure shoved Alistair violently out of the way. Leliana’s blades were no match for the Archdemon’s massive foot, and the claws dug into her side through the leather armor as the momentum lifted her into the air.

Stunned, Judith saw Leliana fly into the stone wall, impacting with a sickening crunch. Alistair turned in time to watch his former lover sliding down the wall. Judith raised her hands toward the Archdemon, angrily biting off the words that would encase it in a prison of ice. As electricity began to arc between her fingers, she looked at Alistair. “Go! I’ve got this.”

He hesitated for a moment, but Judith barked at him, “This is mine to do!” Then, in a softer tone, “Go to Leliana now.” She turned away from him, and blue light lit the sky as she shocked the Archdemon with the electricity that had built up between her hands. 

Alistair ran to where Leliana lay, blood frothing at her lips. Wynne was there first, slender fingers gently probing Leliana’s wounds. Magic glowed inside Leliana’s body. Wynne looked up at Alistair, tears staining her cheeks. “She’s all broken up inside. I can’t hold her,” the mage said as Alistair knelt over his former lover.

Biting her lips against the tears that burned her eyes, Judith threw everything she had into a barrage of arcane bolts, determined to distract the thawing Archdemon from the other Grey Warden long enough for Alistair to say good-bye. She owed both of them that much.

Alistair gently removed Leliana’s helm, gently stroking the red hair. “Leliana, I …” he choked out, not knowing what to say. He looked into her eyes, which were foggy with pain but still filled with so much love. Her breath came in heavy rattling gasps, a longer and longer space in between each rise of her chest. She tried to speak, but the beautiful voice had been stilled. Alistair laid his hand gently along the side of her face. “Thank you, my love,” he said finally, through the tears that blurred his vision. “The Maker … will be glad to see you.”

The blue eyes blinked once, then again, and then closed forever, as the King of Ferelden wept over his lost love.


	60. Archdemon

Judith blasted ice at the Archdemon, freezing it again. It was weakened, she could see, its blood bubbling across the stones of the roof. This was the time. Swallowing hard, she looked at Alistair. He straightened over Leliana’s body, looking up and meeting Judith’s eyes. He must have read her purpose, because his eyes widened and he started to stand. Then he jerked suddenly to a halt, and over his head Wynne nodded gravely at Judith, who mouthed a grateful thank you to her teacher.

Turning her head, she sought Daniel’s bright red hair. He had just run a shriek through with his sword. In the moment her eyes rested on him, Judith could see their future together, and she wanted it more than anything she’d ever imagined. But it couldn’t be. Someone had to deal with the Archdemon, or none of them would have a future. Committing his face to her memory, hoping she could take that image with her to the Fade, Judith pulled Spellweaver from its scabbard. As the ice melted around the Archdemon, its neck drooped weakly, the head collapsing on the ground. Judith faced it, lifting the sword high above her head. 

From his position behind her, Kylon saw the bright flash of steel as Spellweaver caught the light, and he ran, wanting to be there, praying to the Maker and Andraste and anyone who could hear him that what he and Alistair had done would save her. Because if it didn’t … He ran faster.

Judith brought the sword down. As it struck bone, she was glad she had such a powerful weapon and had trained in its use. It took all her strength to push the sword through, using her weight as leverage and leaning on the blade until she thought it might snap. Then with a suddenness that almost caused her to lose her grip on the blade, it slid home. Judith clung desperately to the hilt of the sword. White light surrounded her. A voice keened in her ear, its cries of pain so desperate and affecting that she wanted to relent. Only her Tower training against the whispers of demons kept her resolve strong. 

And then there was silence. She felt as though she was floating, falling, landing on something warm and comforting.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked up to see Daniel bending over her, and behind him, Alistair. “No,” she moaned softly. “Oh, no.” She’d been too late, then, too late to save them, and here they were in the Fade with her. A tear slid down her temple and into her hair as her eyes closed again and blackness took her.  
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
When Judith knew anything again, she lay in a sinfully comfortable bed. The Maker did nice work, she thought languidly. She heard a voice asking “Did she move? Is she waking up?” and another answer, somberly, “I don’t think so.” And she felt again that stab of sadness that she had been too late to save these two men she loved. Had anything in Ferelden survived? She opened her eyes sadly.

“There you are!” Alistair said, his smile lighting up his face. He bounded from his chair, coming to a stop at the end of the bed, where he stood grinning at her.

Daniel came around the end of the bed, catching her hand in his own. He turned it over, pressing a kiss to her palm. “I was so worried about you.” 

“What’s going on?” she asked, looking around the room. This was … just like her room at Eamon’s palace. And Daniel and Alistair looked entirely too happy to be dead. “We’re not in the Fade.” They shook their heads. “The Archdemon? Is it dead?” Ignoring the twinges of pain, she sat up abruptly, panic coursing through her. “The Blight isn’t over unless the Archdemon is dead!”

Daniel brought her hand up to his mouth, kissing it. “The Archdemon is dead, and the Blight is over. I promise.”

“Riordan, then? Did he manage …?” Her voice trailed off, as she wrestled with this idea, that she lived and another may have died in her place.

“No, Riordan was injured in his first attempt on the Archdemon. You killed it.”

“I killed it?” Her mind was whirling. “But … I was supposed to die.” The two men exchanged a guilty glance. “What. Did. You. Two. Do?”

“Nothing, really,” Daniel said.

“It was Morrigan’s fault!” Alistair said at the same time.

“Oh, good going, Your Majesty. Remind me never to take you to The Pearl for poker night,” Daniel hissed.

Judith fixed Alistair with a steely blue glare. “Out with it, now.”

“Well, um, it was like this, er …” Alistair blushed scarlet and turned away, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Fine, then,” Daniel snapped at him. He looked back at Judith. “He slept with Morrigan.”

“Alistair. Slept with Morrigan. That has to be the most implausible thing I’ve ever heard,” Judith protested.

“No, I did,” Alistair said faintly. “She said … it was a ritual.”

“Oh, I see, so all we had to do to end the Blight was sleep with Morrigan? Well, I could have done that,” Judith said sarcastically.

“Ouch! My eyes!” Alistair complained. “I’ll never be able to unsee that image.”

Daniel’s eyebrow quirked, and the kisses he was pressing on Judith’s hand subtly changed tone as he murmured, “An idea with intriguing possibilities.”

Hot fire shot through her, and she thought, did it really matter how she lived? Maybe she should just toss Alistair out of the room and get on with the celebrating. She sighed, pulling her hand away from Daniel’s very distracting mouth. “Ritual, you say?”

“Yes.” Daniel looked at Alistair, clearing his throat.

“Oh, no, I think you have to tell her. It’s all your fault.”

“Your fault?” Judith asked Daniel, turning the blue glare on him.

“It was like this,” he said, looking somewhat abashed. “Morrigan said if Alistair slept with her she’d conceive a baby. The baby would absorb the essence of the Old God, cleanse it of the taint, and end the Blight.”

“How delightfully simple,” Judith mocked. “And you believed her?”

Daniel swallowed, but he looked directly into Judith’s eyes. “She offered me a way to save you. I made sure that way was taken. And I would do it again if I had to.”

She looked at Alistair. “And you agreed to this? Creating a bastard child with Morrigan, giving her some kind of Old God baby?”

He opened his mouth to justify it, then sighed. “Yes. I did.”

Judith closed her eyes, thinking how much simpler things had seemed when she’d thought she was dead. 

“I’ll … um, just be going, then,” Alistair said.

“Alistair,” Judith said. He stopped at the door, looking at her. “I’m sorry. About Leliana.”

“Me, too.” He closed the door behind him.

Daniel sat down on the bed next to Judith, taking her hand again. “You weren’t here,” he said. “I had to make a decision.”

“And Morrigan? What happens to her?”

“She left. As soon as the Archdemon was dead. She swears none of us will ever see her again.”

“Sure, not until she and her Old God child come marching back to take us over.”

Daniel nodded. “That’s Alistair’s concern as well. I think there are ways to deal with the problem. Later.”

“And the city?”

“Still standing. In relatively decent shape, too,” he added with some pride. 

Judith smiled up at him. “We ran into Loghain on the way. He said there was someone in charge with a good head on their shoulders. Somehow I doubt he was talking about Alistair.”

“It was Alistair’s idea to let him out,” Daniel said. “We’d never have held the gates as long as we did without Loghain.”

“Is he all right?”

Daniel nodded. “And the others. Riordan’s leg was hurt pretty badly, but Zev’s taking care of him.” He grinned.

“Zev?”

“I believe they’re ... working on the healing process as we speak. In a celebratory ‘we defeated the Archdemon’ fashion, of course.” Daniel shifted closer to her on the bed.

“It does sound like a good idea,” Judith said. Excitement coursed through her. The Blight was over, she had lived … and she was here in Daniel’s arms, with an entire future ahead of them. She pulled at him, needing to feel his body on top of hers, her hands ripping at his shirt as her excitement rose unbearably. 

Equally aroused, Daniel went with her, kissing her thoroughly as he hiked her nightgown up her legs. Hastily, and with only the minimum amount of clothing removed, they were joined, coming together in joy and triumph.


	61. Future

They might have stayed in bed pretty much forever if there hadn’t been a knock on the door. “My beautiful Warden,” purred Zev’s richly accented voice. “Everyone wishes to see the ‘Hero of Ferelden’. Perhaps she should show herself … to more than just one person, no?” He chuckled.

“Hero of Ferelden?” Judith asked, her eyebrow quirking.

Daniel shifted in the warm den under the covers, holding her closer. “You did kill the Archdemon, after all, and end the Blight. What else would they be calling you?” He nuzzled her neck, not showing any indication that he wanted to get out of bed.

“You’re the ones who held Denerim,” she said. She rolled onto her back and drew his head down for a kiss. The world disappeared into a haze, which was dispelled by another knock on the door.

“Judith Amell, if you don’t get up and come to the door right now, I will assume you are ill and I will come in there.” Wynne’s words were stern, but Judith could hear the humor in her teacher’s voice.

“I’m fine,” Judith protested. “Really, just fine!”

“Well, if you’re sure,” Wynne said, the laugh obvious in her voice now.

“We’ll be out in 10 minutes,” Daniel growled, impatient to get back to the activity they’d been in the middle of.

“That’s good, because if you’re not, I’ll send Oghren in after you,” Wynne trilled, and they could hear her laughing as she moved on down the hall.

“10 minutes?” Judith teased, wrapping her leg around Daniel’s.

“Give or take,” he said breathlessly, pulling her closer and resuming what he’d been doing before, to Judith’s vocal approval.  
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
Ten minutes later, more or less, the expected pounding came on the door. “Open up this minute … or I’ll be comin’ in to join ya,” chortled Oghren.

“No, really, no need for that,” Daniel said, opening the door to the red-headed dwarf, who pouted at him for a moment. 

Oghren’s face brightened quickly, though. “Shame to miss out on the private show, but there’s a whole party goin’ on without the guest o’ honor. Get down there, missy!” he said, trying to smack Judith on the backside. She sidestepped quickly.

“Missy? What happened to ‘Warden’?”

Oghren snorted. As he led the way to the great entrance hall, Judith looked out the windows they passed at the bustling city. People outside were hammering and sweeping and generally putting everything back in order. She whispered in Daniel’s ear, “How long was I out after I killed the Archdemon, anyway?”

“Three days,” he said briefly, giving no indication of how many times in those three days he had worried whether she would ever wake up. “The city’s practically full again,” he said with pride. 

Oghren stood aside to let them enter the hall, which was full of people. All of them stood up and cheered when they saw Judith, lifting their glasses as Eamon called out, “The Grey Warden!”

Judith blushed as they all called out “Huzzah!” 

“All right, all of you, enough!” she said, laughing. “Someone get me something to drink, will you?”

“Here, have mine,” Oghren said, shoving his mug into her hand. Judith looked at it suspiciously, then turned up the mug and drank, feeling … whatever it was burning all the way down to her toes. 

She tried to speak, but nothing came out. Oghren guffawed. He clapped her on the back. “Seen full-grown men who couldn’ta drunk that,” he said, grinning at her.

Trying to get her breath back, Judith clung to Daniel’s arm, looking around the room.

Zev perched on the arm of Riordan’s chair, the two of them sharing a mug and laughing together about something. Ignacio was there with his quiet partner, Cesar. For the moment, the two Crows were sharing in the general laughter, but their eyes moved constantly, watchfully. Loghain leaned against the wall, glowering at Alistair, who looked most uncomfortable sitting next to Eamon. The Arl was expounding on something.

“I can’t tell which one is making Alistair more nervous, Loghain or Eamon,” Judith said quietly to Daniel.

“Eamon. At least Alistair and Loghain know they can’t stand each other,” Daniel replied, just as quietly.

She looked at him in surprise, then nodded, her eyes moving on over the room. Wynne sat with Oghren, the Orzammar dwarves, and the dwarves of the Legion of the Dead. Their leader, Kardol, had been in the thickest of the fighting at the gates. Mithra of the Dalish and the Keeper, Lanaya, were there with a few of their fellows. Shianni and Soris, from the Alienage; Ser Perth and Bann Teagan, from Redcliffe; Sanga, from the Pearl. Sam, the mabari, bounded over and pushed his nose into her hand.

Daniel leaned in, murmuring into her ear, “Morrigan left as soon as the battle was over. Sten is gone, as well, home. He said to say … something in Qunari.”

Judith smiled. “What about Anora? Is she here?”

“She went to Highever. So we’d still have a monarch in case Alistair … well, no need to dwell on that now. She and the rest of the nobles should be back in a few days.”

“It seems so quiet in here without music,” Judith said sadly. “Leliana. Was she properly cared for?”

“Her pyre is waiting,” Daniel said. He squeezed Judith’s arm. “We thought you’d need to be there. To say good-bye.”

“Thank you,” she said. She pressed her lips together, feeling Leliana’s loss keenly amidst the celebrating. She met Alistair’s eyes, and could read his sorrow. Next to him, Eamon finished a story and laughed quietly, not noticing that Alistair hadn’t joined in his humor. 

She walked into the room, Daniel hovering close by. He still couldn’t quite believe she was really here, and had no intention of being too far from her side, pretty much ever again.

Oghren looked up as Judith approached the dwarves’ boisterous corner of the room. “Come have a drink, Warden!” he shouted, bouncing Shianni on his knees. The red-headed elf was grinning widely, as was the dwarf. 

“Oghren,” Judith said, smiling. He lifted his mug to her.

“Warden, yer a soddin’ bronto!” he shouted.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Course you will,” Oghren said, his brow furrowing in confusion.

Judith shook her head. There really was no talking to him. “What will you do now, Oghren?”

“Do?” he shrugged. “Dunno. Me an’ the red-head here have some unfinished business.” He waggled his eyebrows, and Shianni laughed suggestively. “After that?” He belched deeply, and Judith assumed that was all the answer she was going to get.

“Good luck with that, then,” she said, moving on. Oghren waved his mug, but had little to say with Shianni’s tongue down his throat.

“I’m sure he’ll do well … in whatever endeavor he chooses,” Wynne said, smiling at the dwarf.

“Right. As long as it’s a drinking contest,” Daniel said.

“Such cynicism, Daniel.”

“Wynne, what’s your plan now?” Judith asked. “Will you go back to the Tower?”

“No, I don’t believe so. As you know, I am living on borrowed time … I would like to spend that time experiencing new things, exploring the world outside the Tower.” She smiled. “I have seen most of Ferelden, thanks to you, my dear. Now, I think, it is time to see the rest of Thedas.”

“That sounds lovely, Wynne. You’ll be careful, I hope?”

“Oh, yes, I have some very devoted traveling companions.” At Judith’s questioning look, Wynne nodded across the room at Ser Ignacio and his partner. “They’re on their way back to Antiva shortly. For ‘supplies’, I understand.”

“You’re traveling with Crows?”

“How could I be safer?”

“But—they’re Crows! What if they kill you?”

Wynne shrugged, clearly not too worried about this possibility.

“Take good care of yourself,” Judith said. 

“Thank you, my dear. I don’t believe I’ll be leaving for a while yet, though.” The elder mage grinned, raising an eyebrow at Daniel, who coughed and shuffled his feet, refusing to meet Judith’s eyes.

When it became clear neither of them was going to explain, Judith hugged Wynne and turned her steps toward Zev and Riordan. 

Zev looked up, a sleek and satisfied smile on his face. “My beautiful Warden. You look most … well rested.”

“Same to you, Zev,” she said lightly. “Riordan, I saw that feat of acrobatics up there on that tower. It was very brave.”

He stood, bowing over her hand. “Thank you, my sister. I regret only that I was unable to take down the Archdemon.” Still holding her hand, he drew her to the side, away from the others. “You seem to have dealt the final blow most effectively … and yet you live. This, I confess, I do not understand.”

Smiling at Riordan to cover any telltale discomfort, she said, “Perhaps the information was incorrect? After all, the last Blight was 400 years ago. Stories can change, I suppose, in that amount of time. Or it could be that this was the first time the Archdemon was killed by a mage. And a woman.” She looked him in the eye.

“Perhaps.” Riordan didn’t look convinced, though. 

“What will you do now, Riordan? As senior Warden in Ferelden, will you be taking on the position of Warden Commander?”

He shook his head. “No. I … my Calling is likely only a few years away. I was hoping I could stay on as your second?” The question rocked her back on her heels, knocking the wind out of her. As her second? Because she was still Warden Commander. After so much time believing her life would be ended at the same time as the Blight, suddenly she had a future, a life to decide what to do with. The sensation was disorienting, intoxicating. 

She took a deep breath to calm her racing pulse before answering Riordan. “I … don’t know for sure what I will do. Should I remain Warden Commander, I would be honored to have you as my second.” They walked the few steps back to where Zev and Daniel waited. “Zev, where will you go? Home to Antiva?”

He leaned back along the arm of the chair. “No, not just yet. The Crows may change their mind, you see. I believe I might keep a low profile for a while … perhaps entertain myself with my favorite Grey Wardens, no?” He gave Riordan that sleek cat’s smile again, and the corner of Riordan’s mouth curled slowly up in response.

“Good news,” Judith said, smiling. 

She felt Daniel’s hand at her elbow, and she turned to look at him, her blue eyes troubled. 

“Is everything okay?” His brown eyes held hers.

“Riordan asked me if I will be staying on as Warden Commander.”

“And?” He held his breath, waiting for her answer.

“Daniel, I never even thought I would have this day, much less all the ones to come. Suddenly there’s a whole future ahead of me, and I’ve never even thought about what I might want to do with it.” She took his face in her hands, her voice growing husky. “Except to spend as much of it as possible with you.”


	62. Promotions

Judith tucked her arm into Daniel’s, leaning into the warmth of his body and enjoying the rush of pride and possessiveness that swept over her. No one had truly belonged to her since she was taken from her family, no lover or friend or parental figure that hadn’t been shared with the rest of the Tower. The feeling of belonging with and to someone warmed her all through. 

Daniel glanced at her serene face, trying to decide if he could carry his plans for the evening through or not. He surreptitiously patted his pocket, wondering if what was inside would be what she wanted, or if it added too much pressure to a set of decisions she’d never expected to have to make. As she glanced his way, he masked his concerns with a smile, pushing the question off until later.

They walked toward Alistair, where he sat next to Eamon. Loghain, arms folded, leaned against a nearby wall, glowering at the young King. Alistair stood when they approached, hugging Judith tenderly. 

“You seem to be feeling better,” he said tentatively, remembering that their last conversation had been about the ritual with Morrigan.

Judith smiled at him in reassurance. “Much better,” she said. “Not being dead will do that for a person.”

“Yes,” Alistair drawled, smirking at Daniel, “I’m sure that’s what’s made the improvement.” The smirk changed to a full-blown grin as Judith blushed. “I’m glad you both are here, though. I’ve been waiting for you.”

“To do what?” Judith asked, at the same time as Arl Eamon said anxiously, “Would you like to go over whatever you’re planning, dear boy?”

“You’ll see,” Alistair said to Judith. His smile faded as he turned to Eamon. “I already went over the plans with Anora before she left.” At the mention of his daughter’s name, Loghain pushed himself away from the wall and came closer to the group.

Eamon bristled at the name. “Are you sure it is wise to consult only one person?” The question was asked delicately, but the subtle insult wasn’t lost on anyone.

Alistair met the Arl’s eyes squarely, but refused to be provoked by the implication. “Given the balance of experience, yes, I would say that’s very wise. Anora knows more about ruling this nation than any of us.” 

Loghain cleared his throat.

“Don’t start,” Alistair said in a low, dangerous voice. “Your ‘regency’, if you insist on calling it that, nearly bankrupted the country. Oh, yes, and almost lost it to the Blight. I’ll take Anora’s opinion over yours any day.”

“May I remind you, my boy, that I am always available should you need advice?” Eamon said.

“Of course, Arl Eamon. I have never forgotten that,” Alistair said courteously.

“And what, Your Majesty, do you intend to do with me?” Loghain said. “You’ll forgive my forwardness, but I seem to be most curious about that subject.”

Alistair’s eyes turned dark and hard as he looked at the former Teyrn. “You will no doubt be pleased to hear that I have forgiven you your crimes against the state, as a wedding gift to my wife.” He stressed the last two words, clearly enjoying how uncomfortable they made Loghain.

“Do you expect me to thank you for this?” Loghain said at last.

“No, I expect you to thank her. If it hadn’t been for her, I’d have run my sword into your black heart at the Landsmeet.”

“You must be disappointed that I survived the attack on the gates,” Loghain sneered. “Wasn’t it your plan to rid yourself of my inconvenient presence at the hands of the darkspawn?”

“Certainly not, my lord,” Alistair said with a deep bow in Loghain’s direction. “If you had been martyred in battle, Anora might have suggested we name our first son after you.” He gave an exaggerated shudder, grinning wickedly at his father-in-law. 

At that most apt moment, the doors of Eamon’s palace were flung open and a pair of guards walked in; behind them, the small, delicate figure of the Queen of Ferelden. The guards halted, allowing her to pass, and her head tilted up, looking over the crowd anxiously. As soon as she saw Alistair, her whole body relaxed, and she began moving toward him, people stepping aside to allow her to pass. Alistair, his attention focused on his wife, negotiated his way through the crowd as well. If he wished, even for the briefest second, that it was Leliana walking toward him, even Judith couldn’t tell.

The King and Queen met in the middle of the hall, embracing with relief at each other’s safety. Alistair’s head bent over Anora’s, and they kissed for a long moment, to the applause of the somewhat tipsy company.

Only when they had parted, the Queen’s eyes searching every inch of Alistair’s body to be reassured that he was whole and uninjured, did she look over her husband’s shoulder and see her father. Anora’s eyes widened and she gasped. Alistair whispered something in her ear, and she whispered back. At his reply, she smiled, standing up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. She went to her father, then, reaching out to take Loghain’s hands. Loghain nodded at her, his expression softening. Only Anora, who knew him better than anyone else, could see that he was nearly overcome, and she bit her lip, trying to contain her surprise and pleasure at seeing him both alive and free.

Alistair watched the reunion for a moment, then went to the front of the room. He snagged Oghren’s mug as he went, ignoring the dwarf’s outraged shout. Alistair took a long swig, barely flinching at the burn of the alcohol. What a long way he’d come from the innocent Chantry boy she’d first met, Judith thought.

Holding up the mug, Alistair banged a spoon on it, waiting to get everyone’s attention. “Sers, if I could have a moment of your time, I have a few things to say.” He motioned for Anora to join him. “First of all, the Blight is over!” There were hearty cheers. 

Judith noticed that Bann Alfstanna and Fergus Cousland were there now, having arrived in the hall after Anora. They stood quietly together, watching the King and Queen.

Alistair’s voice rang out again. 

“Secondly, I personally want to thank someone who has saved my life more times, and in more ways, than I can possibly count. She gathered our armies, led them to victory, and it was her sword that slew the Archdemon and made this the shortest Blight in history. Judith Amell, Hero of Ferelden!”

Everyone turned to look at Judith, clapping and cheering again as she blushed, leaning against Daniel’s shoulder for support. 

When the cheering died down, Alistair spoke again. “And now, if you will join me, let’s take a moment of silence to honor those who have been lost.” His voice broke on the last word. Judith’s eyes met his, but he looked away before either of them could lose control and give in to grief. Behind her, Judith heard a sniffle, and she saw Alfstanna bury her face in Fergus Cousland’s shoulder. Fergus’s eyes were stark and haunted as he stared across the room. A tear slid down Anora’s cheek, and Loghain looked guiltily away from her, his own eyes shining suspiciously. Around the room, people bowed their heads, mourning their own losses.

After a few moments, Alistair cleared his throat. “May the Maker watch over the spirits of all those we’ve lost, and may we see them again in the Fade … but not too soon!” There was a general chuckle, the occupants of the room relieved to be given the chance to return to levity. “Now, there are a few matters of housekeeping that must be attended to. Firstly, the teyrnirs. Fergus Cousland is confirmed in his family’s traditional holding. Huzzah for Teyrn Fergus!”

Judith and Daniel joined in the huzzahs. Fergus nodded at them all cordially but his face remained impassive, his eyes still far away, whether in the Wilds where his men had been slaughtered by darkspawn or at Highever Castle where his family had been slaughtered by Rendon Howe, it was hard to say.

Alistair allowed the noise to die down before turning to look at his father-in-law. “There is now the matter of the teyrnir of Gwaren. Loghain Mac Tir is no longer the Teyrn.” He turned to look at his wife, smiling at her. “As a wedding gift to my bride, I have forgiven Loghain his crimes against the kingdom. What he has done, he will have to live with.” Alistair’s eyes were stark as he met Loghain’s. “I believe that will be punishment enough. Loghain is stripped of all titles and land except his family’s original farmhold, and he will be a farmer, as his father was before him.” The crowd murmured in astonishment. Alistair held up a hand for quiet. “In his place, the new Teyrn of Gwaren will be … Bann Alfstanna.” The Bann’s head snapped up, and she stared at Alistair in shock. His answering smile was an acknowledgment that this gift was for Leliana as much as it was for the Bann who had helped to heal her broken heart.

Alfstanna came forward. “Thank you, Your Majesty. I will try to be worthy of your trust.”

“I am certain you will be,” he said, bowing to her. “When you have had time to consider who should inherit Waking Sea, we look forward to discussing it with you.” He raised his glass, toasting her. “Ladies and gentlemen, Teyrna Alfstanna!” More cheering, the crowd growing louder as the alcohol flowed. “Just a few more announcements, and I will let you all return to your revelry. I have decided to bestow the Arling of Amaranthine, former home of Rendon Howe, on the Grey Wardens. Their order will always have a base here, to prevent Ferelden from ever being caught unawares and unprotected by a Blight again.” 

Judith’s mouth dropped open in shock. His reasoning made a certain amount of sense, but did he realize he had just made a mage into an Arlessa? That was surely not going to go over well once the nobles had time to think about it.

Alistair was grinning at her now, and Anora was smiling, as well. “Additionally, I would ask if there is any boon the Queen and I might grant you, Judith.” 

Taken aback, she thought rapidly of all the things she might ask for. And then her thoughts stilled, one need crystal clear above the others. “I would ask,” she said loudly, “that the mages of the Circle be given their freedom. Let us be treated like citizens, not held cowed and useless under the thumb of the Templars.”

The room reacted in shocked silence, but Alistair was nodding as though it was the request he had expected. “You recognize that it can’t be exactly like that. The Chantry will not react well to this, and there will need to be negotiations. But changes will be made. Arlessa.” He added the last word pointedly, and she saw that he was completely aware of what he had done in granting Amaranthine to the Grey Wardens under her leadership. Judith took a deep breath, realizing that she was already thinking of herself as Commander of the Grey, the decision made without her ever being aware of it.

Alistair turned back to the crowd at last, grinning widely. “Is Bann Teagan here? Teagan, come up here, please.” 

Teagan was clearly a bit under the influence—Oghren’s influence, specifically—and his cheekbones were flushed bright red as he came up to the King and Queen. “Your Majesty?” he asked, one eyebrow raised inquisitively.

“I considered for a long time who I felt I needed here at my side in Denerim as my Chancellor. As you know, I don’t have a lot of experience with nobility. Or running a country. Or running anything, for that matter.” He glanced around, grinning, at the chuckle that went through the room. Eamon’s shocked white face wasn’t lost on Judith—Eamon had not been privy to this decision, and certainly wasn’t going to be happy with being passed over for his younger brother, Judith thought, but it was a stroke of genius, too, because Eamon could hardly complain. And Teagan would be much easier to deal with. “So I’ve decided to let Bann Teagan here have the completely unenviable task of keeping me from shoving my foot too far in my mouth,” Alistair went on, clapping Teagan on the back.

“M-my liege,” Teagan breathed. He cast one swift, but shrewd, glance at his brother, then turned back to Alistair, bowing. “Anything you need, Your Majesty. I am at your disposal.”

“My beck and call, more like,” Alistair murmured under cover of the muttering that filled the room. “Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you.”

“My thanks,” Teagan said dryly. 

“Finally,” Alistair said loudly, trying to pull the crowd’s attention back. “Finally! There is one last person I have to acknowledge tonight. It was his intelligence and forethought that kept the horde from surprising this city, his leadership we all looked to when our crown jewel, Denerim, was under attack. I can think of no more logical person to place in charge of this city. May I introduce to all of you the Arl of Denerim, Daniel Kylon!”

Judith felt Daniel jump next to her, and she turned to look at him. Clearly, he was no better prepared for this than she was. His mouth was moving in denial, even as the crowd pushed him forward to where Alistair and Anora stood grinning at him. “Your Majesty,” he said. “I—I’m just a soldier. I don’t—“

“You have held this city together when no one else was able to, saved her from the worst depredations of the horde. Ferelden’s greatest city would have been no better off than poor Lothering if it hadn’t been for you. No one could care for this city more … and now it is yours.” Alistair smiled fondly at Daniel’s shocked face. “Besides, at least I didn’t make you Chancellor.” He turned back to the crowd, raising his voice, “And now, ladies and gentlemen, I find I have much to discuss with my wife. We will take our leave now, and you may enjoy your revelries until the small hours, should you so choose. Just try not to make more of a mess than the darkspawn did!”

And in the general laugh that followed, Alistair led his blushing bride from the room, and the Arlessa of Amaranthine and the Arl of Denerim stared at each other and wondered just what they were going to do now.


	63. Happily

Around Judith and Daniel, the party was in full swing, people celebrating with everything they had. Oghren and Teagan were downing barrels of pickle juice, with a large audience gathered round them placing bets. Teagan and Oghren glared at each other, neither willing to concede, despite their faces now being as green as the juice they were drinking. 

Zev and Riordan had made it almost to the door before falling into each other’s arms, and were now up against the wall, kissing passionately. Wynne had retired already, as had Fergus Cousland. The King and Queen were long gone. Judith realized as she looked around the room that she was still trying to count heads … and that the count would never be complete again. She wondered briefly where Morrigan had gone, but since the answer could be anywhere, decided not to go farther down that road. Suddenly she felt inexpressibly weary. Turning to Daniel, she said, “I don’t know about you, but I think I’ve done enough celebrating for one day. I’d rather go back to bed.”

He grinned. “Well, that wish is certainly my command. Lead on, Arlessa.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You didn’t have anything to do with that, did you?”

“No, definitely not. You didn’t have anything to do with him making me the Arl of Denerim, did you?”

Judith shook her head. “It’s an inspired decision, though.” She kissed him quickly. “You’ll be the best Arl Denerim ever had.”

“But what about you?” he asked. “With you in Amaranthine …” His voice trailed off, and he grabbed her hand. “Come on, let’s go somewhere out of this crowd.”

“By all means,” she said, grinning, as he led her through the room and toward the hallway leading to their room.

He closed the door behind them, leaning back against it. Judith walked toward him, her eyes half-closed as she murmured, “And now that you’ve dragged me in here, ser, are you going to have your wicked way with me?”

Instead of reaching for her, as she’d expected, he cleared his throat. “An excellent idea,” he said, slipping around her. “But later.”

“If you insist,” she said, turning to look at him curiously. “What’s on your mind?”

He pulled his hand out of his pocket. “Would you sit down, please?” he asked.

“Of course.” Staring at him in confusion and concern, Judith took a seat on the edge of the bed.

Daniel let his breath out slowly, trying to decide where to start. “It seems impossible to believe,” he said, “that when all this began, I was just a Sergeant in the Guards.”

“I was just a mage of the Tower,” she said. “And now look at us.”

“Right.” He chuckled nervously. “A couple of fancy nobles.”

Judith grinned. “Thanks to the former stable boy ex-Templar turned King.”

“Hard to make up a story like that,” he said, smiling back at her. “But it leaves the question open—what’s the ending?”

She leaned back on her hands, crossing her legs. “I thought the whole point of this celebration was that there isn’t an ending. The story goes on.”

“Yes.” His brown eyes lit up. “So I guess it’s up to us to decide what the newly minted nobles will do now, isn’t it?”

“Run Denerim and Amaranthine?” Judith raised an eyebrow. If he was going somewhere with this, she hoped he would get there soon.

“But besides that.” Clearing his throat, Daniel got down on one knee. Both Judith’s eyebrows flew up at the pose. “Judith,” he began quickly, before she could speak, “I feel as though my life started when I met you. And I want to spend as much of the rest of it as possible with you.” He fumbled in his pocket, and withdrew a ring. “Will you marry me?”

Her eyes stung with tears. “Oh, Daniel, that’s such a lovely gesture, and it’s so sweet of you to pretend that it’s possible, but we both know I can’t.”

He was taken aback. “Why not?” 

“Mages aren’t allowed to marry,” she said sadly. “What if we turn maleficar and make our spouses our blood slaves?”

He took her hand in his, sliding the ring, a single sapphire surrounded by diamonds, onto her finger. “I think you forget,” he said, kissing her hand, “that—because of you—mages have just been given their freedom.”

“Alistair said he’d try,” she protested. “It’s not the same thing.”

“The King of Ferelden said he’d try to free the mages from the Chantry because you asked him to … and you don’t think he’d also grant you permission to marry?” Daniel grinned at her. “Especially since, last I knew, mages aren’t supposed to be Arlessas, either.”

“It feels strange, taking advantage of a privilege denied to others like me,” Judith said uncomfortably.

“Don’t think of it that way.” Daniel shifted to sit next to her, putting his arm around her shoulders. “Think that you’re paving the way for other mages to live normal lives through your example.”

“Oh.” She thought about that for a moment, and a slow smile spread over her face, lighting her blue eyes. “In that case, then …” 

“Shall we try this again?”

Judith nodded, her eyes sparkling, and Daniel slid back off the bed, going to one knee in front of her. “Judith Amell, light of my life, will you marry me?”

“Yes. YES!” Laughing through the tears that spilled unheeded down her cheeks, Judith launched herself off the bed and into his arms, wrapped hers around his neck.

Daniel, caught off balance, toppled over onto the floor, carrying her with him. 

Judith straddled him, their eyes meeting, and the laughter faded. Her breathing quickened as lightning shot through her. Leaning down, she brought her mouth to his, her tongue slipping into his mouth to meet his.

Daniel groaned, his arm tightening around her, deepening the kiss. He rolled her over. Her hips pushed up against the bulge in his trousers, and he rubbed against.

Extricating herself from the kiss in order to breathe, Judith ripped at the back of his shirt. Daniel lifted himself off of her to pull the shirt over his head. “Your turn,” he said breathlessly. Judith got to her feet, turning around to allow him to tackle the fastenings to her dress.

His fingers were trembling so badly he could barely manage it. “I miss your armor,” he growled, biting the nape of her neck. Judith moaned. “Buckles are so much easier than these lacing things.” 

“Rip it off,” she moaned, leaning back as his hands slid around her to cup her breasts through the gown. 

“Oh, now she’s an Arlessa, she can afford new gowns anytime she wants, is that it?” He nipped at her earlobe.

“And if I can’t, maybe I’ll just ask my fiance, the Arl,” Judith purred, turning in his arms to kiss him again. Their tongues slid together, and Judith’s hand cupped Daniel’s erection through his pants. “Get the dress off, now,” she hissed. 

“Yes, ser,” he murmured, and, stepping back, he yanked it up over her head, tossing the thing across the room. The rest of their clothes followed quickly.

Once the clothing was out of the way, Daniel gently removed the pins holding Judith’s hair up, letting the blond tresses flow over her shoulders. He stroked his hands down from her hair to her breasts, his thumbs rubbing the stiffened nipples, as Judith arched her back trying to get closer. With one arm around her lower back, Daniel bent her over so his lips and tongue could take over his ministrations to her breasts, sucking each nipple into his mouth. 

Gently he laid her back onto the bed. Judith’s hands worked their way down his chest and over his stomach to caress his length. He moaned, thrusting against her hands, and allowed her to guide him into her wet heat.

They thrust slowly together, savoring the sensations caused by each movement, until the pleasure became unbearable. A final thrust put them over the edge, falling onto the mattress, panting from the exertion.

As her breathing returned to normal, Judith snuggled against Daniel, his heartbeat thumping steadily beneath her ear. At last, after everything she’d been through since Duncan had come for her, and even before that, since Ser Otto put her on his horse and carried her down out of the mountains, she’d come home. 

Daniel thought of the flyer still hanging over his desk. When he’d taken his first look at that beautiful face, it never occurred to him that the woman it belonged to would bring all his dreams to vivid life. Too happy to sleep, he lay listening to the soft rhythm of her breathing and the familiar sounds of his city settling down for the night.


End file.
